Iron Man Knows All
by PercyJacksonTheAwesome
Summary: While Natasha was undercover pretending to work for him, Tony always wondered why she didn't fall for him. She didn't swoon at his feet like all the other women. Was there already a man in her life? It took all the events of 'The Avengers' to happen before he finally figured it out. Post Avengers. Told from the POV of the hilarious Tony Stark. Rated T to be safe. R&R!
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey! I know I should be updating my HP stuff but this was circulating my brain and had to get it down. And those are painful to write right now. So, I have this here for you to enjoy! I have chapters 1 and 2 ready but after that, I have no idea how long it will be or when i will update after that. School will be starting in September and not sure how much free time I'll have when that starts. But, til then, enjoy, and PLEASE read and review!  
****~PJA**

Prologue

Tony was simply minding his own business, boxing with Happy, when she came in. He couldn't help staring; she was beautiful. She had dark red curls cascading down her back, and a body most women would kill for. He had no idea who this woman was, but he was determined to figure out, since she was going to work for him.

"You," he said, pointing to the woman, who was now talking to Pepper. "What's your name?"

"Rushman. Natalie Rushman," she said, almost too fast, almost as if on alert. He called her into the boxing ring to get a better look at her. He stared deep into her green eyes. There was something different about this one, but he couldn't place exactly what it was. And it wasn't the fact that she was able to flip and tackle Happy with seemingly no effort.

Then he noticed that she wasn't completely swooning over him, like most every other woman he'd met, save for Pepper. This was new to him. What sort of woman didn't?

There was certainly something different about Natalie Rushman. And despite seeing pictures online of her modeling in lingerie, he knew there was more to her than met the eye.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Turns out, Tony had been right. Natalie Rushman wasn't Natalie Rushman at all. She wasn't even an actual model (how disappointing). She was Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, master assassin and fighter, and eventually, fellow Avenger. Natasha, despite having been undercover as his employee for so long, couldn't stand his guts, and Tony got a kick out of getting on her nerves sometimes.

And saving the Earth did have a few smaller perks than, well, saving the Earth.

He finally figured out why Natasha didn't swoon when she first saw him.

There were a lot of reasons, actually. Natasha was a strong woman, cold and shutting off her emotions from the world. And she didn't like him. But those all took second place to the main reason.

Women didn't swoon over men like himself when there was already a man in their lives.

And Tony was sure Natasha had a certain Hawk in her life.

* * *

Tony had noticed it almost immediately after the Loki fiasco was done and over with. The group had disbanded for about two weeks or so, but eventually they had all rendezvoused (save for Thor, who'd returned to Asgard with his brother) at Stark Tower, which Tony had so generously let them use as headquarters/living quarters. Truth was, he was lonely, but he'd never admit that out loud.

And while the group was staying at the tower, Tony noticed some things. He noticed that while Natasha shoved everyone else away, she allowed Clint to stay close. And she _kept _him close. When they were all having a movie night watching _The Wizard of Oz_ (insisted by Steve), Tony looked over at Clint and Natasha over on the corner of the couch, Natasha's head on Clint's shoulder, snuggled against him, Clint's arm around her. Tony couldn't help but smile. Not everything could make Natasha act like this.

In the days that followed, Tony noticed that wherever one of the assassins was, the other one was always there with them. He seldom saw the Widow without her Hawk, or vice-versa. The Hawk was the only one allowed close to the Russian assassin, the only one allowed under her skin.

He'd known that the two were partners, and had been for years. He'd known that they were best friends. But what he didn't know was whether or not there was anything more to that story. He thought there was. He wouldn't believe it if there wasn't anything there.

He would lose thirty bucks if there wasn't.

After a little while, he began to lose a little bit of patience. He wanted to know for sure, and they weren't any more outgoing about it than they always were. It was a suicide mission, but he decided to confront Natasha about it. He didn't feel like confronting Clint, since he wasn't as close to the Hawk, what with him having been possessed and all, and he seemed to be just as reserved as Natasha. He was sure Clint would open up with time (Natasha? Not so sure).

One day, Clint was in the training room with Steve and Natasha was sitting on the couch in the living room, alone, drinking a cup of coffee, even though it was ten in the morning. Tony took a seat on the sofa across from her.

"So, Natasha, I hear you're in a relationship with the Hawk," Tony said, trying to provoke her.

Natasha's face hardened, obviously not pleased. "I am _not _in a relationship with Clint," she said stiffly, probably holding back the urge to hit him. And though she was a trained assassin, Tony knew she was talking with the voice of something holding something back.

"Oh really? You're not? And you snuggle against each other and hug each other? You're not in a relationship and you're _always _together?"

"I trust him," Natasha said, cheeks turning ever so slightly pink. "Much more than I trust you." Tony didn't need to hear this; he knew Clint was the only one she trusted fully. But it was satisfying to hear it from Natasha's lips.

"Ah, but I know you love him," Tony said, thinking himself sumg.

He could see Natasha's eyes burn with an angry flame. "I do not love Clint. And he does not love me, either."

"Oh, how blind love is," Tony said, even though there was a high probability she was simply lying. "I see how Clint looks at you. The look you only give a lover. He treats you gentle, cares for you. And you, well you said it yourself. You trust Clint, and only Clint. He's the only one allowed close; the only one you let under your skin. For you not to love him is an utter impossibility."

Natasha simply stared at him with a look of pure hatred in her eyes. "I do not love Clint," she said simply. She stood up and left the room.

Tony could hear the shatter of her coffee mug as she hurled it at the wall.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tony knew he'd hit a nerve; his meddling almost always did. Although, he'd had no idea how much of a nerve it was until later that night.

He was passing by the open door to the roof when he heard voices. And being Tony Stark, he had to go see what this was. He went out the door and strutted out onto the roof, but stopped, held back and hid when he saw who else was out on the roof.

Clint and Natasha were sitting together on the edge of the roof, Natasha's head on Clint's chest and Clint running his fingers through Natasha's short, fiery red curls. Natasha looked so innocent, so unlike the cold-blooded assassin Tony knew her to be. And Clint looked so protective. Like a protective Hawk, watching over the ones he cared about more than the world.

Then Tony tuned in to what they were saying.

"Ugh. Stark can be such a jerk. And a pest," Natasha said. Tony felt fake hurt. How dare she call him a jerk! "He doesn't know when to stop his meddling." Natasha's voice began to crack a teensy bit on the end of the sentence.

"Sshhh, don't worry about it, Tasha," Clint said softly, therapeutically running his fingers through her hair. "What Tony says or does is the least of your worries."

"This time was different," she said. "He got onto a…touchy subject."

Clint paused a moment. "What was it?"

Natasha seemed to be carefully choosing her words. "Emotions."

Tony silently cursed in his head. He'd been hoping for them to discuss the fact that they loved each other – even if they weren't in an official "relationship," he knew they loved each other. It was the only logical explanation for what was going on.

Clint nodded. "Stark can be a bit inconsiderate."

"Tell me about it."

After a short moment of Tony wondering what they would say next, Clint slowly took his left hand, – the one that hadn't been in Natasha's hair – reached over, clasped Natasha's left hand, intertwining their fingers, and held it tight. Tony smirked. Not in a relationship, eh? Well that was quite a sign of something more than friendship. Tony could see Natasha give a small smile. Actually, now that Tony thought about it, the few smiles he'd actually seen on Natasha's face had been drawn out of her by Clint. All of them. The rare, rare laughs because of Clint.

Tony hoped they would do something else, like make out passionately, but he stood there watching for another twenty minutes, and they did not move. Defeated, Tony silently left the roof, a small smirk on his face. Well, _this _information should get him some cash from Bruce and the Cap.

**A/N: Sorry that this chapter is short. But, tell me what you think! I'd really like some feedback. Oh, and if anyone has any suggestions for anything to happen, I'm open for them! Please! I have some ideas but suggestions are _very _welcome!  
~PJA**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: I feel proud of this chapter - it's slightly long. And I finished it on the spot :D As always, read and review!  
~PJA**

Chapter 3

"I believe you all owe me thirty bucks," Tony announced, bursting into the room where Bruce and Steve were sitting, discussing something or other. The two of them stopped their conversation and looked up at him when he entered the room.

"I beg your pardon?" Steve asked him, obviously confused.

"You and Banner owe me thirty bucks, old man," Tony said, taking a seat at the table. "You know the stakes of our bet."

"The bet?" Bruce repeated. "Which one?"

"The one about Clint and Natasha," Tony said. "You all owe me thirty bucks."

"No, the specifics of the bet state that if Clint and Natasha love each other, or are in a relationship, Tony gets thirty dollars," Steve clarified. "And if they don't, Bruce and I get thirty dollars."

"So I win. I get my thirty bucks," Tony said, leaning back in his chair.

"When exactly was this?" Steve asked, suspicious.

"I saw Clint and Natasha out on the roof last night," Tony said. "And they were quite…intimate. Natasha's head on Clint's chest and Clint running his hand through her hair. And Natasha, for some reason, was at some sort of breaking point, and Clint was comforting her in the way only a lover does."

"So? That doesn't mean anything," Steve said.

"Ah, but that's not all. Clint took Natasha's hand. And she didn't let go."

For about three seconds, nothing was said.

"You have no proof," Steve said. "How do we know you're not making this up?"

Tony grinned. "Follow me, lads. I think this will enlighten you."

Tony lead Steve and Bruce down to the control room, where all the security tapes were stored. He found the tape from the camera out on the roof and rewound it until he got to the point at which Clint and Natasha were out on the roof, having their intimate moment. Tony sat back as Bruce and Steve watched the events Tony had witnessed last night. When they got to the part where Tony had left, he paused the tape. He looked at the other two with a large grin on his face.

"Okay, I believe you," Steve said, defeated. "But it's still not proof that they love each other."

"It so is!" Tony began a rant. "How does someone like _Natasha _let someone do stuff like that to her if she doesn't love them? And why would someone try and comfort Natasha if they don't love her too? And don't you see the way they act around each other all the time? They're _always _together, they completely trust each other, and don't let anyone else get anywhere near close. And do you see the way they look at each other? I see the Hawk giving her looks of _complete _admiration – the way I saw an old man on the street look at his wife once. And she sneaks looks at him too – for Natasha, that's big. If you say that's not enough proof, well then fuck you, Steve Rogers, you either can't see with your eyes or you _really _don't want to give up some measly cash!"

The room was silent for a whole minute. Finally, Steve responded.

"You act like I don't give a damn," he said softly. "I do. I think love is a wonderful thing. And if Clint and Natasha love each other, that's a thing to be celebrated, but they also need some space if they do. Having other people invade your love life is not fun. Yes, I do think they love each other, but I want solid proof before I give up the money."

"It's too bad we didn't go into more specifics when making this bet," Tony said.

"Wait, hold on a minute," Bruce said, stopping the furious volley between the other two. "We _did _get into more specifics than this."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

"We wrote down the bet on a piece of paper, and you guys gave the paper to me. I forgot about it until now." Bruce took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "We got into it a little more specifically than you two remember." He began to read from the paper. "'This hereby states that if Clint and Natasha _admit_ to each other or to us that they love each other, Steve and Bruce will compensate Tony thirty American dollars. However, if they fail to do so by one month after this bet has been made, Tony will compensate Bruce and Steve thirty American dollars.'"

"Damn it. Why'd we have to make it so they _admitted_ it?" Tony said. Then he realized something. "Bruce, what's the date on that paper?"

"Um…June twenty-eighth."

"Damn. Today's July sixteenth. We don't have that much time left. We have twelve days left."

"You mean _you _have twelve days left. This is _your _side of the bet; I _lose _money if I help you."

Tony cursed under his breath again. "Well then. I've got twelve days to watch and see if Clint and Natasha admit their love – or make them do it myself."

**A/N: So what did you think? I left you off with a bit of a cliffhanger - what will Tony do? What will Clint and Natasha do? PLEASE give me some feedback - I _thrive _on it! And they may get you some chapters faster! And as always, suggestions are good, too!  
~PJA**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Oh. My God. I really cannot believe this. On the very first day I published this story I got 1.8 THOUSAND views, and a grand total of 3,380 since then. You guys don't know what that feels like, and I thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, following - everything! Even that person who added this to a community - love you too.  
And I'm sorry this is delayed - I was out at a lakehouse with no wifi, so even though it was written I couldn't post. I hope this is everything you guys hoped for - oh, and make sure to review and tell me what you thought! You all know I love reviews!  
~PJA**

Chapter 4

Tony spent all day and night figuring out what to do - everything had to be perfect for this situation. If he screwed up, his hopes fmor future children would be severely bruised by a pair of black boots. But he had a plan. It was a good plan. He'd spent about sixteen hours thinking of a plan and then developing it to the fullest extent. He'd thought of most every possible variable - even the possibility that Harry Potter would burst in while the plan was in action and abduct the Hawk, taking him to learn magic. It was unlikely for that to happen, but he had to be prepared for anything.

So on the afternoon of July seventeenth, eleven days before he had to pay up, Tony entered the living room. And as expected, Clint and Natasha were sitting together on the sofa, bottles of water in hand, not saying anything, just enjoying each other's company. Tony smiled. _Perfect_. Just what he needed to make this plan go straight into action. Tony walked up to the pair of assassins and stood right in their line of vision, making it impossible for them to ignore him.

"Clint, I've been doing some thinking," Tony said, making Clint's eyebrow rise the tiniest bit. "You are a perfectly handsome man, and it's probably been years since you've been on a date with a woman. You need to get back in the world, Clint. So, tonight, you and me are heading out to this great bar I know, and you're gonna meet some ladies. 'Cause there's obviously no woman in your life right now." Tony resisted the urge to look straight at Natasha, even though he was positive she was glaring daggers at him.

"Um…no thanks, I'll have to pass on that, Stark," Clint said, not looking him in the eye.

Tony pretended to look appalled. "What? But why ever not?"

Clint continued to look away. "I'm not interested."

"How can you not be interested? You get to drink beer and meet hot women! How can a single man not love that?" Tony had to resist grinning. He knew this was gonna happen; it was all a matter of execution. Plus, he _loved _seeing the looks on their faces. He kept going with his act.

"Unless…you're not a single man?" Clint looked down and said nothing. Tony fake gasped. "Clint! How could you not have told me? There's a woman in your life? Who is it, Clint? Tell me who it is."

Tony waited, but Clint said nothing. He just stared at the ground with a look Tony couldn't really decipher. So Tony went on talking.

"It's not Natasha, is it? Don't tell me it's Natasha."

A deep, red blush came to Clint's face. He muttered something under his breath, and then got up and left the room.

"What'd he say?" Tony asked Natasha.

"He said, 'It's not Natasha.' Which it's not. There's no 'woman in Clint's life.'" Natasha quickly got up and went after Clint.

"But then why doesn't he want to go to the bar?" Tony yelled after them, not expecting an answer (he didn't get one). Tony was pretty satisfied with himself. But not completely. He'd _wanted _for Clint to say that there _was _a woman in his life, and that it was Natasha, and say to her, "I love you." But, alas, that didn't happen. And now Tony had to follow them and eavesdrop on their private conversation. It made _him _feel like the spy.

Natasha had caught up with Clint in the hallway, so Tony ducked into the nearest bathroom. To his dismay, he couldn't peek his head out to see, since there was a high probability he would be caught. Instead, he brought out his phone and quickly brought out the current security reel of the spot that the two were standing in, settled down on a toilet, and began to watch.

"Don't listen to anything Stark says," Natasha told Clint. "He's nothing but a jerk. And we know he gets on…touchy subjects sometimes."

Clint sighed. "I know, Nat. It's just…there are some things that I don't mind Stark getting in to. Like making fun of my codename, or how I almost always use a bow and arrow, and seldom anything else. But when he gets into stuff like that…it irritates me. Sometimes I wish he would just keep his nose in his own love life."

Natasha sighed. "I know, Clint. I know."

Tony found this conversation very interesting; quite a contrast to the one they had on the roof the other night. Obviously each assassin was designed to provide comfort when the other needed it, Clint more often than the Widow. Tony continued to watch with utter fascination.

Clint put a gentle hand on Natasha's arm. "Don't you wish," he said softly, so softly that Tony had to strain to hear him, "that you could go back to that night in Budapest?"

It was a minute before Natasha responded, even quieter than Clint. "Yes. I wish for that often. But those things are done and over with, Clint. There's no going back there."

Tony was intrigued. What happened in Budapest? He had heard the two assassins mention Budapest during the battle against Loki, but he hadn't really known nor cared what they were talking about. But now he was curious about what happened in Budapest that made Clint and Natasha go back there so bad.

But Natasha wasn't done talking. "Now, we have to focus on the mission at hand: Kicking Stark in the balls."

Tony panicked. He needed to get out of there, but he couldn't leave. If he left the bathroom, Natasha would see him and he would be dead. So he crouched himself into as tiny of a ball as he could possibly get and prayed that they would pass by the bathroom so he could flee.

Tony looked back at the screen on his phone, and saw that the assassins weren't there anymore. Where did they go? Was it safe to come outside? Could he run to his room?

But suddenly the door of the stall he was in was kicked open, and he saw two pretty angry assassins facing him. He gave a weak smile, and asked Clint, "Are you sure you don't want to go to that bar, Clint?"

His head soon found a resting place in the toilet bowl.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Guys, I'm still in shock. This story currently has 55 followers and 16 favorites. That's freaking _amazing_. I thank every single one of you for reading, reviewing, or adding to your alerts or favorites list. Remember to keep reviewing!  
And this chapter is a little longer, sorry. Had to crunch in a lot. But I hope you enjoy!  
~PJA**

Chapter 5

"Do any of you guys know what happened in Budapest?" Tony asked Steve and Bruce, barging into the room that the two were currently sitting in. The two looked at him with identical confused expressions.

"What are you talking about? I've never been to Budapest. And why is your head all wet?" Steve asked him.

"Never mind why my head's wet. I'm not talking about you; I'm talking about our resident Blackhawk!" Tony exclaimed.

This only confused them more. "Blackhawk?"

"You know…Hawkeye and Black Widow? I was considering Clintasha but that one didn't sound right…"

"Goodness, Stark, you're dropping to shipping names now?" Bruce shook his head.

"The shipping name isn't the point! The point is: something happened in Budapest to those two, and I need to know what, and I need to know _now_."

"Tony, how exactly do you plan on getting that information from those two? You know they're on to you. You know they won't cooperate," Steve said.

Tony grinned. "I'm not going to ask them at all. _You _are."

Steve widened his eyes in horror. "M-me? Why me?"

"'Cause you're just the innocent little Cap wanting to know what happened to our assassins in their past life. They'll tell you more than they'll tell me. And they wouldn't suspect you of being part of an evil plot."

"What if I refuse?"

"Then I'll show everyone those pictures from that party back in June."

If looks could kill, Tony Stark would currently be lying in his grave.

"You wouldn't _dare_." Steve's words packed in more ice than Tony had ever heard from that man.

"I've already got 'em uploaded. If I say the word, JARVIS will program those photos all over the building, for everyone to see," Tony said.

And from the look on Steve's face, Tony knew he had won. "Alright. I'll do it. But this isn't over, Stark."

Defeated, Steve left the room to look for the resident Blackhawk, and to get this over with.

Bruce looked at Tony. "What happened at this party that you speak of?"

Tony grinned. "That's for me and Spangles to know, and for you to find out through carefully executed blackmail."

Steve found the assassins sitting together on the living room couch. Tony knew this because he and Bruce were currently watching on the live security feeds. It looked as if both Clint and Natasha were reading _books_. Tony snorted. How lame. Why would you be reading a book when you could be doing something so much _cooler_, like waterskiing in the Pacific Ocean, or flying on a private jet, or just plain being Tony Stark?

The pair saw Steve almost before he came in the room. When they turned their heads to look at him, Steve greeted them with a smile. "Hello Clint, Natasha. Anything new on this fine day?"

Tony almost face-palmed. The Capsicle was sounding like an old man. Which he was, but nevertheless, sometimes it shamed Tony to hear him speak like that. However, it didn't seem to be drawing any suspicion from Clint or Natasha, so Tony rolled with it, hoping it would work. He crossed his fingers.

"Nothing much, Steve," Clint said. "Nothing much."

"Oh. Well, that's good, I guess," Steve replied. The situation took a quick turn for the awkward as an awkward silence came on. Tony mentally panicked. Awkward silences were _never _good, especially in a situation of extracting precious information without having the victims know it, like this one. Every second was precious, and the conversation needed to keep flowing to sound natural and unplanned. Well, this wasn't exactly _planned_, but the general context of it was. Tony prayed the Cap would smarten up and revive the conversation soon, before it was too late.

"So, Clint, Natasha, I've got a question to ask you two," Steve said, his face already turning red. "What happened in Budapest?"

The two assassins immediately looked startled. "Who told you anything about Budapest?" Natasha demanded.

Steve panicked, looking for a good answer. "I remember you guys mentioning Budapest during the battle – you know, the big one, with Loki. And I was curious about what happened."

Tony emitted an audible sigh of relief. _Good thinking, Cap_, he thought to himself. They really dodged a bullet, there.

"Oh yes, I remember that now," Clint said, his face taking on a look that Tony couldn't decipher. "You and I remember Budapest _very _differently, Tasha." And if Tony wasn't mistaken, Clint added a wink to the end of that sentence.

And to Tony's utter disbelief, Natasha actually gave the tiniest hint of a smile. "Very differently, indeed."

"Should we tell dear Steve what happened in Budapest?" Clint asked Natasha, his voice coated thickly with something Tony couldn't understand. That was driving him nuts – why couldn't he decipher anything about the Hawk?

"I think Steve has a right to know."

Clint and Natasha turned to face Steve, who was watching the exchange with a look of confusion. "So, you want to know what happened in Budapest, Steve?" Clint asked him.

"I guess," Steve said nervously, after some hesitation.

"Well, here's what happened," Clint started. "Natasha and I had just finished a mission. There were bad guys everywhere, all armed with guns, so we fired. It was long, hard, and brutal, but we won. We got the information we needed, too. So, after everything was said and done, we decided to go back to the hotel. But on our way back, we were pulled into an alley by a mysterious man. He said he was the muffin man, and he had a job for us. He told us to sneak in to Princess Lollipop's castle, take the magic gumdrop, and bring it back to him.

"So we set off on our job. It wasn't hard to find the castle – it was bright pink and on the top of a hill. We snuck past the My Little Pony guards, made our way through the castle, simply tranquillizing anything in our way, and found the magic gumdrop. It didn't look any different than a regular gumdrop, except that it glowed a lot. We were almost out, but the room was suddenly invaded by vicious Care Bears, so we had to fight them by ripping their bellies open and tearing the stuffing out. Once the floor was covered in Care Bear guts, we quickly made our escape, and we found the muffin man in the same alley. We brought him the gumdrop, and he gleefully thanked us, and then gave us complimentary muffins as he left. And that's what happened to me and Tasha in Budapest." Clint finished.

Steve just looked more confused than ever. "Sounds…interesting. Uh…thanks for, uh, sharing it with me," he said, choosing his words carefully.

Tony, however, knew that the old man had been fooled. He should've known the assassins wouldn't tell him what _actually _happened in Budapest. This would need to be drawn out of them by something else.

Tony turned his attention back to the screen. "No problem," Clint said. "I _know _you're not gonna do anything stupid with that information, like give it to Tony for bad purposes or anything."

"Uh, right," Steve said, eyes looking back and forth. "Well, I guess, I'll, uh, see you guys later."

And with that, Steve left the view of the camera screen.

Tony sat back and sighed. He should've known this plan wouldn't work. Those assassins were too clever, and Steve was just too innocent and stupid. Tony knew if he wanted something right, he would have to do it himself.

Steve entered the room Tony and Bruce were currently sitting in, having somehow found their location. "I found out what happened," he said. "The muffin man –"

"I heard that load of bullshit!" Tony exploded at Steve. "Did you actually believe that? The muffin man sent them to get a magic gumdrop from Princess Lollipop's castle? In _Budapest_? Biggest load of crud I've ever heard! They knew we were on to them! They probably prepared for this scenario three weeks ago; damn those assassins."

"Hey guys," Bruce said, drawing the sharp attention of the other two men. "Don't look now, but I think something's going on down there between our 'resident Blackhawk.'"

Tony quickly turned his attention to the screen. There was something going on down there, all right. Something Tony was positive he wanted to hear.

"Do you think he bought it?" Clint was asking Natasha.

"Who knows?" Natasha said. "I know he's going back to Stark with that load of shit. We knew it was all Stark's doing from the moment he mentioned Budapest. Steve's a nice guy and all, and he might be curious, but he wouldn't go and ask us about Budapest. He's too modest. But Stark would definitely go as low to send Steve. And he thought we wouldn't catch on."

"Well it's a good thing that story we made up came in handy," Clint said. "I didn't want all that creativity to go to waste."

"Creativity? You call _that _creativity?"

"I'd like to see you come up with something better."

Then, in an almost tender moment, Clint raised his hand and gently traced the right side of Natasha's jaw line with a single finger. Tony almost shook his head. _And the two say they're _not _in love? _He thought to himself. He almost said something out loud, but he didn't. Even though they couldn't hear him, he didn't want to ruin the moment. It was only a matter of time before Clint went in for the smooch.

But he didn't. He simply put down his hand. And the two said nothing else.

Tony banged his head on the table. "Watching these two drives me nuts. I swear to God, if he can't get any further than _that_, than they've got some _major _issues!"

"Wasn't that what you and Pepper were like for, what was it, a couple years?" Steve asked.

Tony raised his head and gave him a glare. "_No. _Besides, this isn't about me. This is about our resident Blackhawk! And unfortunately, we can't focus on this right now, we have to find out what happened in Budapest – for real – before my head explodes."

"But how exactly do you plan on doing that?" Bruce asked Tony.

Tony sighed. "How much of a bad idea is it to separate the Hawk from the Widow?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's not as funny, but this chapter is kinda important. And again, sorry it's gonna be stretched out - I didn't want to squish it into one chapter, and I'm tired. But I added a little bit of tender Clintasha for you :)  
Oh, and can you guys do me a favor? Can you _please _take the poll on my page? My flooded author's brain needs to know what the readers want!  
and REVIEWS! Please! I wanna make it to 25!  
And stay tuned for the next chapter, which will likely be up in a couple days. There will _definitely _be some tender Clintasha, although I'm not sure about the humor, sorry. But the Budapest deal will be cleared up :)  
And in the meantime, check out my other stories: _Passing on the Suit__, _or _She Belongs to Clint Barton_, or even _Could Have Killed Her_.  
~PJA**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: ACK! I haven't updated in awhile, and I feel bad - I honestly never expected this to be my most popular fic EVER. I've gotten over 8,000 views, it's amazing! And to apologize and reward you, I'm giving you an extra long one, hope you enjoy! PLEASE review and tell me what you think!**

**And I've gotten some questions and concerns about some of my other stories. I'm going to give you some updates right here, to clear up some confusion:**

**She Belongs to Clint Barton - this was supposed to be a oneshot, but I've gotten a lot of reviews and likings and pleas, so another chapter is in the works!**

**Neville's Diary - I'm sorry, guys, but this story is DONE. It's the only extremely long fic I've actually completed, which makes me feel accomplished, so it's going to stay that way.**

**Passing on the Suit - I haven't updated in awhile, sorry. I'll get to that soon.**

**The Untold Stories of the 74th Annual Hunger Games - I shouldn't have started a new fic, but I got the Hunger Games on DVD and this exploded from my brain, begging to be written, so I had to write it. IDK when I'll update, but it'll be long.**

**and just FYI guys, school's starting for me next week, so once that happens my updates will be more spontaneous and less frequent, I think. Sorry.**

**~PJA**

Chapter 6

Bruce was currently shaking his head in dismay. Tony knew he thought that the plan he'd come with was likely to get him killed or worse, but Tony didn't care. He had a strong desire to know, and he needed to know now, despite all the possible consequences.

And so the suicidal plan was set into action. Tony strutted into the room in which the two assassins were sitting, acting like he owned the place. Wait – he did own the place. How 'bout that? He walked in front of the two assassins and immediately drew all the attention to himself.

"Hey, Spidey, I'm gonna borrow Legolas here for a minute, 'kay?" Tony said to Natasha, it being more a statement than a question. Tony dragged Clint to his feet by the arm.

Natasha stared bloody daggers at him. "Don't do that, Stark," she said coldly and simply.

"What? Why ever not?" Tony asked in mock confusion. "Is it because you love him too much and can't stand to be without him?" Tony added probably a bit too much childish sarcasm dripping on the "love."

Tony swore those daggers got even sharper. "No. We were having a pleasant conversation, is all."

"Well, seeing as the two of you weren't even talking, I assume that this is okay, then."

Before Natasha could make any sort of objection, Tony quickly left the room with Clint in tow. He sat the Hawk down in a vacant room two floors away from the feared assassin.

"You know, the only reason you're not dead is because she let me go," Clint told Tony.

"Why would she let you go?"

The Hawk shrugged. "I don't know. Tired?"

Tony sighed. "Alright then, time for some answers. Now, tell me, in your own words, with no help at all from Spidey, what happened in Budapest."

Clint was intently staring at the wall behind Tony. "Has that spot on the wall always been there? It kinda looks like an elephant. No – a My Little Pony."

"Clint! Focus! Answer the question!"

Clint looked at Tony. "What? Are you too ashamed of your secret My Little Pony collection that you refuse to acknowledge that spot on the wall?"

Tony's face turned redder than his suit. "Clint, we're obviously going to have some issues here if you refuse to answer the question. Now: what happened in Budapest?"

Clint sat back and began to examine his fingernails. "There we were…" he began dramatically. Tony leaned in, intrigued.

"I was stuck to deal with a bunch of cuticles…and hangnails."

Tony's hope deflated and gave way to frustration. "Stop telling me all this bullshit! We're not leaving here until you tell me the truth!"

Clint grinned mischievously. "Guess we're gonna be here awhile, then."

* * *

Meanwhile, down in the living room, Natasha was still seething. She didn't like to be separated from Clint, unless it was by choice or because of mission requirements. It didn't make her pleased – at all – when someone like Tony just took away Clint like he did. If Natasha left Clint herself, or if Clint left himself, all was okay. But it was idiots like Tony that set her off.

So to let off some steam, Natasha quickly made her way to the training room and began to viciously beat up all the test dummies. Three minutes later and various plastic body parts and stuffing were strewn about the floor around her, making it a new record for her. She wasn't even breathing that heavily.

Then she heard muffled shuffling behind her, and she whipped around to face the attacker, ready to beat them to a pulp.

Turned out it was just Steve.

"Woah, woah! Easy, Natasha, it's just me!" Steve said, holding his arms up to protect his face. Natasha eased her guard, realizing she would not be hurt, while Steve lowered his arms.

"What was all this?" Steve asked, gesturing to the destroyed dummies on the floor. "Training?"

Natasha hesitated before telling Steve anything. "Blowing off some steam. Tony's being…well, Tony."

"What did he do now?"

Natasha waited quite awhile before answering in a low voice, "He took Clint away."

"Ah. Well, don't mind Tony. I'm sure Clint will be returned to you soon."

Natasha turned to look at Steve with a questioning look, trying to decipher whether the Captain was implying something, or whether he was being sincere. Deciding that Steve wasn't really the type to imply, she changed the subject. "What are you doing down here, Steve?"

There was a shift in the Captain's tone. "I just wanted to apologize for my earlier actions. I swear, I was acting only under Tony's command, and did not mean any harm to you or Clint."

Natasha almost cracked a smile. She had always known he was acting under Tony, but she respected the man's honesty and courtesy. Those were things you didn't find in someone like Tony.

"But I honestly would like to know what happened in Budapest."

This question surprised Natasha down to the core. Well, that was a question she never thought Steve would ask of his own accord. But why did he want to know? He wasn't acting through Tony, so what interest was Budapest to him?

"Why do you want to know?"

Steve seemed to carefully choose his words. "Well, I know this is a personal subject for you, and it's fine if you don't want to tell me, I can respect that. But, from where I stand, it seems like something big happened to you two there, and I'd like to know all that I can about my fellow Avengers."

Natasha stared at Steve for a moment, and then sighed. She kind of *wanted* to tell, but she wasn't sure if Clint would forgive her if she told. But then again, Clint wasn't around. And Natasha could easily beat him in a fight.

* * *

"OH MY GOD JUST TELL ME ALREADY!"

Clint said nothing.

"We've been at this for hours. Why won't you just tell me what happened already?" Tony asked, exasperated.

Clint sighed. "Natasha wouldn't like it if I told."

"Well guess what? Natasha isn't here right now, so leave a message at the beep and just tell me already!"

Clint looked down at the suddenly interesting floor. He really didn't want to tell. Natasha would probably kick his ass. It wasn't the amount of time he'd been holed up here that bothered him – he'd been through much worse, and much longer than this. It was the fact that Tony was so insistent, and that he would probably know eventually anyway, that was eating at him. It was also the need to tell that was killing him. And Clint didn't particularly want to tell him without Natasha by his side.

"What's the matter, Bird Brain?" Tony asked. "Too afraid to tell it without Natasha 'cause you love her?"

Clint stiffened up slightly. "I do not love her."

Tony knew that was a problem for another time; it would be a harder nut to crack. He moved along with the problem at hand. "Then prove it. If you don't love her, you can tell me what happened."

There was a long moment's hesitation. So long that Tony feared Clint wouldn't say anything more. But then Clint let out a deep breath, and began talking.

"Budapest was supposed to be an easy mission," he began. "Take out one of the smaller bases of an enemy group. It was supposed to be get in, get out. But they had known we were coming. They had large reinforcements, so large it was taunting for just the two of us. They scrambled our communications; we couldn't call for backup. We fought our hardest, but they just kept coming, and I got knocked unconscious in the middle of everything. I hardly remember any of the fighting, but I know Nat protected me and won it all – all by herself. You have to admire her for that.

I woke up back in our hotel room we'd rented just in case things went wrong, Nat sitting on the bed beside me. I asked her what happened, and she told me that we won; she'd fought them all off, and the base was down. She then seemed to think the best idea was to try and get in contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. right away, but I insisted she rest. Reluctantly, she agreed, and probably only because she was dead tired. I told her we'd get in touch with S.H.I.E.L.D. in the morning; tonight we'd have a night to ourselves.

So we simply sat there in the peace and quiet, for what seemed like hours. Eventually Nat began to drift off to that state between sleep and awake, so I held her in my arms without her objecting. We stayed that way for quite awhile, and I just felt like...like the happiest guy in the world. Eventually, she drifted off to a deep sleep, and I told her..." Hawkeye hesitated, not saying anything more on that particular subject. He expected Tony to press, but surprisingly, he didn't. So Clint moved on.

"Nat just looked so...peaceful. At that point in my life, I had never seen her look peaceful. I didn't want to ruin the moment. So I let her go, laid her down...and that was it. That's all there is to tell."

Clint looked up at Tony, having avoided looking at him the whole time, but he wasn't sure what he expected to see on the billionaire's face.

It definitely wasn't what he got - awe and respect. Those were so scarcely seen on Tony's face that at first the archer wasn't sure if they were what he thought they were.

But those emotions quickly disappeared as Tony melted back into himself. "That's it?" he asked in slight disbelief. "That's what happened in Budapest? You had a woman in that position and you didn't have your way?"

That's when Clint got mad. Something in that blurt made him turn into a seething, honest-to-God pile of rage.

"Stark," he said, literally spitting anger. "I may be a smart-ass just like you, but there are quite a lot of things that differ between you and I. I don't think women should be treated like that. They should be respected just as you respect a man. And you don't take advantage of them. Especially the woman you love. You treat them like they're your whole world; your everything. You protect them, even if you know they are perfectly able to handle themselves." Clint stepped closer to Tony until he was about three inches from his face. "And you don't talk about Natasha like that. *Ever.* Or I will shoot you with an arrow in the most unpleasant place. And I'm not talking about the knee. Understand?"

Tony gulped in fear. "Yes, sir Legolas."

Clint stalked out of the room without a single word.

* * *

"Fury told us that Budapest would be an easy mission," Natasha began. "Take out a small base of an enemy group, and get the hell out. It didn't turn out to be easy. They were waiting for us. They had huge numbers, all waiting to fight us. We were in deep trouble. They scrambled all our communications, so we couldn't call for backup. It was just the two of us against so many of them. We fought our hardest, doing well for our numbers, but Clint went down. He was knocked unconscious by one of them. So I had to fight on my own. I couldn't exactly drag Clint to safety, so I had to basically stand over him to protect him. However, I did eventually manage to win that fight. The minute I saw that there were no more coming, I dragged Clint a safe distance away in a nearby alley, and infiltrated the base. That part was easy, even though I was dead tired from all the fighting. Quick in, plant a couple bombs, quick out. I managed to shelter myself from the explosion and the fleeing enemies, and then I went to retrieve Clint.

"I brought - no, dragged - him back to the hotel and I put him on the bed. It was around thirty minutes before he came to. I told him we'd won, and the mission was complete. I also knew that we'd have to find a way to get to S.H.I.E.L.D. soon, since they were undoubtedly worried sick about us. But Clint convinced me to rest, to not worry. To have a night to ourselves. I agreed, but only because I was dead tired. We laid there on the bed, in simple peace, probably for hours. I could feel Clint's gentle arms around me just before I drifted off into sleep." Natasha looked up at Steve. "And that's it. That's all I can remember."

Steve simply nodded at her. "Sounds like a nice evening. I know I would've killed for a day of peace back in the war."

The edge of Natasha's lip began to curl, hinting at a smile underneath. "Yes. It was certainly one of the best days I can remember." She changed the mood in the room entirely as she turned away from Steve.

"I'm going to get back to beating the crap out of these dummies again. You know, as soon as I get new ones."

Steve nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Alright. You do that. I'll, erm, see you around, Natasha."

And with that, Steve left Natasha to herself.

* * *

"So, whatcha got, Capsicle?" Tony asked Steve as he entered the room where Steve and Bruce were currently sitting.

"Well, when I got down there, Natasha was beating all the dummies to a pulp," Steve reported. "She didn't seem to be taking the separation from Clint very well."

Tony grinned "Excellent. What next?"

"Well, she almost broke my face," Steve said. Tony snickered. "And she asked me what I was doing down there, so I gave her a sincere apology for my earlier actions, and then I told her that I really did want to know what happened in Budapest."

"And she believed you?"

"I believe so. I think I sounded sincere enough."

"So what did she say?"

Steve proceeded to tell him everything Natasha had said about Budapest. When it was over, Tony seemed slightly surprised.

"Well, that's a very different version than what we heard from the resident Hawk," he said.

"What happened with Clint?"

With much over-dramatization and groaning, Tony told Steve all that happened with Clint. Steve had to agree that the stories were quite different.

"Well, there are a few things we can draw out of this," Tony said. "Clint *definitely* loves Natasha. I can just tell by the way he told the story. Natasha, I'm not *as* sure about, but by the way you tell it, she does not like being away from Clint."

"What about the sentence Clint trailed off on? What was he going to say?" Steve asked.

"I'm pretty sure he was gonna say he told Natasha he loves her, but he didn't want to say that in front of me."

"So what do we do now?"

"Well," Tony said. "We've got two lovesick assassins. And now that the whole Budapest issue is cleared up, we can get back to the original plan: getting our resident Blackhawk to admit they love each other."


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm going to apologize in advance for the filler chapter. I originally planned to make this one big long chapter, but instead I split it into two. This is directly paired with the next chapter. Not sure how good or how funny this is, so PLEASE give me some feedback and tell me what you think!**

**Oh, and remember to take the poll on my profile page!**

**And I'm still truly amazed - 11,000 views on my story! Thanks a lot guys, it truly means a lot to me! Especially you guys who reviewed, followed and favorited! THANKS!**

**~PJA**

Chapter 7

"Tell me again, Stark. _What _is it that you want me to do?"

It was July eighteenth, ten days before Tony had to pay up. He still had yet to get Clint and Natasha to admit their love, but he had an excellent plan brewing. A plan even more excellent than the previous excellent plan. But he needed help from a certain high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. member to pull it off.

"Well, here's the situation," Tony said to an ever-emotionless Nick Fury. "Legolas and Natasha are in love, and it's oh so obvious that they are, but they are both unwilling to do anything about it and will not admit it to themselves or the other, which is driving me bonkers. So, I need something that will draw the assassins together to make them admit to each other that they love the other. But, the question is what. So, I of course had a brilliant idea. When are you most likely to admit your love? In a close-to-death situation! So I had an idea: if you put Clint and Natasha into one of these situations, say, a mission, and simulate an experience where they're about to die, and have them admit they love each other, and then, voila! They're both safe, they've admitted they love each other, and everything's great."

Fury gave him a cold, hard stare. "So you want me to set up a fake mission for Barton and Romanoff."

"Well, yes."

Fury just looked at him.

"Stark, are you aware that this goes against just about every rule at S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Do you really think I pay attention to the rules, Nick?"

Fury continued to talk. "Normally we do not _dare _to even _think _about doing something like this, no matter the circumstances." Tony began to worry. He feared his valiant efforts of barging into Fury's office with a brilliant plan had been for nothing.

"But," Fury continued, spiking Tony's attention, "these are special circumstances. Barton and Romanoff have been agents and partners here for years – one would have to be blind to not see the chemistry between them. I would have thought that after all these years, Barton would have made a move – I even told him that there were no rules restricting relationships between agents. Yet, Barton has remained in the dark, and done nothing. Now, what you're suggesting here, it might be just what he needs to set him in the right direction." Fury grinned mischievously. "I will comply with your wishes, Stark. I will set up this fake mission for you, and see how this turns out for Agent Barton."

Tony smiled, quite largely. "Well, I'm impressed, Nick. I didn't know you had a devious side to you. I also had no idea you were a Clintasha shipper."

The smile dropped from Fury's face. "Seriously, Stark? Shipping names?"

"So, are we all good to go on the plan?" Tony asked.

"Give me an hour or so. I'll have them ready in no time."

* * *

Feeling pretty pleased with himself, Tony strutted back into the living room of his tower, slightly upset that no one was there to witness his awesome entrance. But he heard whispers coming from somewhere, and that slightly unnerved him.

"Jarvis, where is everyone?" Tony asked.

"I believe Mister Rogers and Doctor Banner are waiting for you a few floors above, sir. Miss Potts is out on errands, and Miss Romanoff is down in the training room," the AI answered.

"Okay…so where's Barton?" Tony asked unsurely.

"My sensors detect that Agent Barton is in the air duct directly above you."

And before that piece of information clicked in his brain, Clint sprang from the vent and landed on Tony's back, making the latter stumble around because of the sudden weight upon him.

"Clint! What the hell are you doing?" Tony asked, trying to breathe correctly (Clint was strangling him), walk upright, and talk at the same time.

"Why did you go see Fury?" Clint demanded.

"What? I didn't go to Fury. Fury came to me!"

"Answer the question!" Clint's hold on Tony's neck tightened.

"Alright, fine – I went over there with some drinks – did you know the man had a soft spot for tequila?"

Tony's ability to breathe suddenly became much harder.

"Alright, alright! He had a mission for me!" Tony shouted.

This seemed to surprise Clint so much that the grip on his neck was released entirely. "Fury gave you a mission?"

"Yes, he did – now get off me!"

With stealth-like grace, the archer silently hopped off Tony's back and looked him in the eye. "Fury gave you a mission?" he repeated. "Why?"

"Is it really that hard to believe?" Tony muttered. "But if you must know, Fury believes that I'm ready to be sent on simple missions – you know, blasting the crap out of bad guys in the open and stuff."

Clint's eyes narrowed. "Where is he sending you?"

Tony panicked. But then he recalled something Clint had said once. "He said it was classified."

Clint cursed under his breath. "Damn it. I _will _find out, Stark. I know my ways around S.H.I.E.L.D."

Tony prayed that he wouldn't figure out the actual reason behind his meeting with Fury.

* * *

Later that day, Tony was becoming anxious. Fury still hadn't called Clint and Natasha for their "mission," and it was beginning to worry him. What if he didn't call? What if Fury had simply put up an act to troll Tony? Tony would kill that one-eyed man if that was the case.

So, in the meantime, Tony entertained himself by spying on Clint and Natasha. It was both insanely fun and excessively irritating at the same time. The fact that Clint wouldn't even go as far as to kiss the girl drove him nuts, but Tony still enjoyed spying on them.

So Tony was watching the two on camera from his security room. They were currently sitting in the living room, watching some romantic comedy on the excessively large TV. It was one of the cheesiest movies Tony had ever seen.

"Why'd you pick this stupid movie, Clint? What's the point? It's disgustingly cheesy," Natasha said.

"Come on! How can you not love _Letters to Juliet? _A love lost for years and years gets reunited and rekindled! How can that not tug at your heartstrings?" Clint asked.

"Real love doesn't work like that. Real love is painful, heartbreaking, and it doesn't have a happy ending."

"Natasha," Clint said softly. "You don't know that. Just because you've been told to shut off your emotions doesn't mean everyone else has. Love is different for everyone. Love can happen to everyone. Love can always have a happy ending."

Natasha stared into Clint's eyes, with, if Tony was not mistaken, possibly something that resembled…love? Tony didn't believe it. He watched as Clint gently put his hand to Natasha's face and gently caressed her skin with his thumb, tenderly rubbing it. Tony almost groaned at the sheer romanticness of it, yet the fact that neither of them were willing to do anything more.

"Love is for children, Clint," Natasha whispered, so soft that Tony almost didn't hear her.

"Sometimes it's okay to be a child," Clint said, even quieter than Natasha.

And then, to Tony's utter disbelief, he saw Clint slowly, ever so slowly, lean in towards Natasha. Tony leaned in towards the screen. Was he really going to do it? Was he really going to make his move; to _finally _kiss Natasha?

But, just as Clint had gotten his face about an inch closer from its original position, Fury's face appeared on the television screen, replacing that of Amanda Seyfried's.

"Barton, Romanoff," Fury demanded, making Clint sharply draw his hand away from Natasha's face and jerk his face away.

Fury didn't look fazed, except for the slight nose twitch.

"What is it, Director?" Natasha asked, her voice betraying no emotion.

"I've got a mission for you two," Fury said simply.

"When?" Clint asked.

"In approximately thirty minutes," Fury answered.

"Thirty minutes?" Clint asked in disbelief.

"You heard me."

"Why the rush? What is this mission?" Natasha asked.

"We need you to diffuse a bomb in a nearby building, about ten blocks away. It's set to go off in forty minutes."

**A/N: PLEASE REVIEW! I won't post until I get up to 45 reviews! I KNOW there are 97 of you following, so that shouldn't be too terribly hard! Oh, and PLEASE take the poll on my profile page! I hope you enjoyed, and please bear with my cliffhanger!**

**Oh, and just FYI, this'll probably be the last update before school starts on Tuesday, so please bear with me and my sporadic updates!**

**~PJA**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Guys I'm SO SORRY it took so long to update! I seriously have had no extra time - and I'm only gonna get busier. I apologize so badly. I will probably end up updating this once a week or every two weeks. Sorry.**

**So. This chapter. I hope it lives up to your expectations - PLEASE tell me what you think and REVIEW! You know I love them! Oh, and PLEASE take the poll on myprofile page!**

**K thanks, love y'all!**

**~PJA**

Chapter 8

Tony couldn't believe it. He really, seriously could not believe what had just happened. Clint had _almost freaking kissed Natasha_ – Fury seriously could not have had worse timing. It even would have been better if he had interrupted the kiss. Tony wasn't sure what would have happened if he did, but it still would have been _better_.

Tony, though, was currently banging his head against one of the tables in the security room. _So. Close._ It was driving him absolutely mad, and he seriously had no idea why. Someone _else's_ relationship shouldn't be doing this to him – the only thing that should be doing this to him was his own relationship! What was going on? Was it possible he cared? No, ridiculous! He just really wanted to win that bet, and shove it in Cap's face.

On the screen, he saw Clint and Natasha get up off the couch and go prepare to go on this mission. Tony didn't know exactly what they had to do to prepare, but he wasn't going to stick around and watch. He had to have a serious talk with Fury.

* * *

"Fury!" Tony exploded as he barged into Fury's office. "You seriously could not have had worse timing."

"Well, what did you want me to do, Stark?" Fury said. "I did _exactly_ as you told me too – I organized a fake mission for them, I cleared it all with everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D., and I called them in – if anything is anything is anyone's fault, it's yours."

"_But they were about to kiss_!" Tony stressed. "That mission might not have even been necessary if they had been able to kiss! But, no, they didn't. They were so close! Why must the world be so cruel?"

"Stop complaining, Stark," Fury said. "What's done is done. Get over. I'm sending them out on this mission, and hopefully all will go well. Now, get yourself in the control room. We've set up cameras and bugs in the location we're sending them to, and I know you'll want to have eyes and ears on everything going on. And seeing as you'd find a way to get in even if I didn't let you, I'm just going to let you in anyway." Fury added the last sentence seeing the look on Tony's face.

Tony grinned. "Glad to know we've come to an understanding, Nick. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some assassins to go spy on."

* * *

Tony was marveled at how S.H.I.E.L.D. ran a mission - even a fake one. There were agents with little headsets sitting at about twenty computers, each displaying something different. Everything was so uptight and organized, and it set Tony on edge. He didn't like things that were this organized. He didn't deal with it well - that was Pepper's job. Either way, if this was what it looked like for a fake mission, Tony could only begin to imagine what it would look like in here on a real mission.

No one acknowledged his presence when he came in, which disappointed Tony. He loved the attention. So, grumbling slightly, he took the seat at the vacant computer which had been so conveniently labeled with a sticky note, "Tony Stark." Tony thought that nice of them, although he probably would have pushed someone out of their chair if he didn't have a seat.

One of the other agents in the room announced, "Agents Barton and Romanoff now in the transfer vehicle," which alerted Tony to jam the headphones onto his large head, which Steve always claimed was because of his over-inflated ego. Tony never denied those claims.

Tony turned his gaze to the screen in front of him, and he saw that it was a video reel of Clint and Natasha sitting in the back of some sort of van. Tony grinned. He was going to see all the dirt. He looked at the screens of the agents around him, and he saw that no one else was getting this reel. Was this not a normal thing? Maybe no one was normally supposed to have 24-7 watch on the field agents. Still, this _was_ a set up mission. So did they set up this camera just for him? Tony felt so special. Having things done just for him was what he lived for.

"Agents off," the same agent announced. On the screen, the van in which Clint and Natasha were sitting began to move. And then they began to speak.

"Who would put a bomb into a building in New York City?" Natasha asked. "And why?"

"How should I know?" Clint retorted. "Fury didn't tell me anymore than he told you."

"He normally tells us everything about the mission," Natasha said. "The who, what, and why. Why is he so secretive about this mission?"

"I don't know," Clint said, his face looking to be deep in thought. "Could be a lot of reasons. I'm asking him when we get back."

The car jerked to a sudden halt. The driver in front, unseen by Tony, said, "Bomb's inside this building here. Second floor. You have three minutes to diffuse it."

The agents nodded and then exited the vehicle, along with the screen. How was he supposed to watch them now? Surely there was another camera set up in the same room as the bomb. After a couple of seconds of searching the screen, he found a small icon in the corner allowing him to switch camera views. The room he was looking into was gray, stone, and empty, except for a small item in the middle of the floor, which Tony inferred to be the bomb. It was a cliché bomb; a small bundle with a digital timer strapped to the front. Tony wondered exactly how S.H.I.E.L.D. planned to not make it blow up.

Soon enough, Clint and Natasha entered the small room and immediately were attracted to the bomb.

"We have three minutes to figure out how to diffuse this?" Natasha asked in disbelief. She tried to pick up the bomb, but to no avail; it was latched to the floor. "Remind me - have we ever diffused a bomb before?"

"No, as I recall, we're always the ones blowing up the building," Clint replied.

"You mean _you_ are - I have no part of exploding arrows."

"Come on, you know they're awesome."

Tony wasn't sure he believed this. Were they really flirting as they were attempting to diffuse a fake bomb? I guess that was good for Tony's cause, but really?

Natasha's face suddenly hardened. "Focus, Clint. We've got to get serious. We have less than three minutes before this place blows. We don't want to be stuck in that."

"Alright," Clint said. "You don't happen to know how to diffuse a bomb, do you?"

Natasha gave him a hard glare. "Where's the instruction manual, smart-ass?"

"Don't have it on me, sorry."

Natasha gave the bomb a once-over. Then she took out a knife.

"Nat, what are you doing?" Clint asked in confusion.

"I'm gonna pry this thing open and work from there."

Natasha gripped her knife, wedged it into one of the cracks, and pushed on it with all her might...

...the blade snapped.

Clint's eyes widened. "Wow. That's one high-quality explosive."

Natasha threw down the handle and broken stub of the knife. "That was my good knife, too," she grumbled.

"You have more knives, Tasha," Clint soothed.

Natasha angrily whipped her head to face him. "You have another idea, smart one?"

"I could try to step on it..."

"That could either work beautifully or blow up the whole place. Don't risk it, Clint."

"And why ever not, Tasha? Gonna miss me too much if I'm gone?"

"You know I'd die too, stupid."

"Oh yeah, right."

Tony couldn't help but let out a chuckle, knowing they were in no real danger of dying. He was hoping that as the clock ticked down, they would be closer to saying those three words that Tony was waiting for.

"So...what do we do?" Clint asked Natasha.

She sighed. "I don't know, Clint. We have -" she looked at the clock "- one minute."

Clint looked as though in dreamy thought. "Hmm. One minute to live. What can I say or do in my last minute?"

Tony prayed they wouldn't think of running out of the building.

"Well, Tasha, it's been a pleasure working with you," Clint said. "You've been an excellent partner, and I -"

"Come on, Clint, we have to keep trying," Natasha interrupted. Tony mentally cursed. So close. "We can't let everyone down. Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D., the team. We need to complete this mission, and come back alive."

"The team..." Clint scrunched his eyebrows, thinking hard and deep. "The team...mission..." Clint's entire head snapped up in sudden realization. "_STARK_!"

Tony gulped. This couldn't be good.

"What does Stark have to do with anything?" Natasha asked, confused.

"Stark set this up!" Clint roared, standing up on both feet. "This mission isn't even _real_! Stark met with Fury earlier today and set this up! I even caught him! Why didn't I realize this before? There's no way in hell Fury would give Stark a solo mission! He's a loose cannon! Tasha, this is all fake! Stark is probably watching us right now!" Clint somehow managed to turn right towards the camera. Tony almost shivered. The man's steely blue-gray eyes were staring right through his soul.

"You hear me, Stark?" Clint threatened. "You are gonna get it _so bad_ when we get back."

Natasha, seemingly have accepted everything Clint had said, and equally as angry, said, "There's the camera," and then there was a flash of a knife being thrown, and the signal shorter out.

Tony sat there in horror for a minute. He was mentally planning his own funeral - there would be pictures of him everywhere, Fury would be the pastor, and Clint and Natasha wouldn't be invited. No, better - they would be dancing in his dead glory.

Back in reality, Tony stood up from the chair. "Did anyone else see that? Or was I the only one? I think I'm dead. Tell Fury he's going to be the pastor at my funeral."

One of the other agents put a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony didn't even shake the man off.

"Stark, I suggest you run. Now."

And that's what he did.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Guys, I apologize TEN TIMES OVER for the delay! Life's just gotten in the way so much! But, I didn't forget you, as I put off my homework to get this done! You're welcome! Hope it lives up to your expectations!**

**Also - THIS STORY HAS GOTTEN OVER 22,000 HITS! THANK YOU ALL _SO MUCH _FOR YOUR SUPPORT! And all the nice reviews! They encourage me to write!**

**And PLEASE PLEASE take the poll on my page and check out my other stories!**

**And please bear with me, I don't know when the next update will be. So, in the mean time, review and enjoy!**

**~PJA**

Chapter 9

He hoped they wouldn't find him here. There was no way they'd find him here. He'd picked a great hiding spot. No one knew where it was. In fact, no one knew _what _it was. One good thing about being the owner of a building with seemingly endless floors was that he could put a room on a floor somewhere and no one could ever know where it was.

That's why Tony was currently hiding in the secret room he'd dedicated to all his My Little Pony memorabilia. Was he embarrassed by this? Yes, yes he was. No one could _ever _know he had this – and so far, it seemed it was working pretty well for him. So why not hide himself in a room that wasn't supposed to exist? It made perfect sense. Even Clint and Natasha would never find him here.

As Tony snuggled down deeper into the mountain of stuffed ponies, he heard footsteps above him. His heart froze. Clint and Natasha were getting dangerously close. Putting the secret pony room on the floor directly below the main living area probably wasn't the _smartest _idea. Tony just hoped they wouldn't crack the code on the elevator…

_Ding. _Uh-oh. Tony's heart stopped. _How did they get onto this floor_? He wondered in disbelief. _Only I should be able to get onto this floor! Not even Jarvis knows the code! _Tony put _all _precautions into protecting this place. _So how did Natasha get in_…?

Tony didn't have time to worry about that right now. He was in almost-full-out internal panic mode. He needed to hide better, but without making any noise. So slowly, ever so slowly, with motions that were so un-Tony-Starklike, he immersed himself into the mountain of ponies until he was completely covered. Hard to believe he owned _that _many stuffed My Little Ponies. He eyed the door through the miniscule peephole he'd somehow made himself. He had to make sure they _did not find him_.

Tony's entire being froze when the door literally crashed open. He was surprised it was still on the hinges. It took all of Tony's willpower not to tremble as he watched the obviously seething mad faces of Clint and Natasha.

"He's got to be in here. This place was hidden – high chance he's hiding on room in a floor there's not even a button on the elevator to," Natasha said, making her way farther into the room.

"So Stark _does _have a secret My Little Pony collection – and a _ginormous _one at that! I called it!" Clint said, with utter fascination.

"Clint! Focus! We're looking for Tony in a fit of rage! Look under all the ponies!" Natasha seethed.

If Tony weren't in a life-threatening situation, he would have laughed at hearing Natasha say that last sentence.

His blood ran cold as the two assassins started frantically tossing stuffed ponies behind them as they searched for him. Tony knew he was dead. He began to say his last prayers – the Iron Man suit would be left to Bruce to tinker with, Steve would get the training room, Pepper would get the company and all his money, and Clint and Natasha would get the Dumpster out back.

But suddenly, Tony saw the light of death when the pony covering his head was tossed aside. He glanced up to see Clint's face hovering above him.

"How's it going, Legolas?" Tony greeted, half-heartedly. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"_NATASHA!_" Clint screamed, even though Natasha was halfway across the room. "I've found the son of a gun!"

Within seconds, Natasha had also entered Tony's field of view. She did not look happy in the least. She looked about ready to clobber him.

"Hi, Natasha. Didn't expect to see you here, either."

Before Tony could make another smart-ass comment, Clint grasped him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up into the air out of the ponies, keeping him suspended a few inches off the ground. Tony was surprised. He had to give the man credit – he was stronger than he looked, and people didn't give him half the credit he deserved. Sure, he didn't have Thor-strength, but Tony could see the muscles rippling underneath the man's arms. Definitely stronger than _him _without the suit on.

"Please don't kill me," Tony said, bringing his arms up to protect his face. "Actually, you know what, please do kill me. Save me the terror of whatever torture I know you guys have planned for me."

Clint and Natasha glanced at each other, sharing a look. Natasha looked back at Tony. "No, we're not going to kill you, Stark." She smiled in a way that made Tony extremely scared. "We have something _special _planned for you."

Tony really didn't like the way Clint grinned at that.

* * *

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?" Tony begged and pleaded for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"You'll see. You'll just _love _it," Clint said in that sarcastic way that made Tony sick. Tony attempted to thrash around. He hated this. He needed to know where they were going! He couldn't see anything from this burlap sack, and it drove him mad that he couldn't move. Clint had slung him over his shoulder with seemingly no effort, and every time Tony flinched, Natasha smacked him from behind. It was painful, and eventually Tony gave up. He didn't even know if they were still in the building.

Suddenly, Tony thumped to the hard ground. He assumed Clint had thrown him. He was then lifted again, and placed onto what felt like a chair. He heard more than felt the bag being untied, and it was slipped off over his head. Tony found himself in a dim, sterile room – it reminded him of an interrogation room in all the crime movies, with a one-way glass screen. The walls were gray tile, and there was nothing in the room but the chair and a huge flat-screen TV.

A _snap _brought him back to reality, and he saw that his wrists and legs were now bound to the chair. He was starting to panic. He struggled against the binds, but to no avail. He looked desperately at Clint and Natasha, now standing in front of him.

"What are you going to do to me?" Tony asked. "Is this an electric chair? 'Cause that's not gonna hurt me as much as you want; I've gotten into a messy brawl with Thor before."

"Don't worry, Tony, we wouldn't dream of such a thing," Natasha promised all-too-sarcastically. "But we've just got one more thing to do."

Clint came forward, holding something small and clear in his hand that Tony couldn't identify. Clint held open Tony's eyelids with two fingers, and began to apply them to Tony's face.

"What the heck is that?" Tony asked in fear.

"Oh, just a little something," Clint said, vaguely. "We wouldn't want you to fall asleep, now would we?"

Tony was about to ask what he meant by that when he realized something. He couldn't blink. He tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't. They were stuck open with the clear stuff – probably some sort of adhesive – Clint had put on his face.

"What the hell, guys?!" Tony asked in horror. "I can't close my eyes! They're gonna start to hurt soon! Haven't you ever had a staring contest?"

"Oh, Tony, don't worry about that," Natasha said. This was _really _starting to scare Tony. What was going on? What were they going to do to him? Why did they need to clamp his eyes open? Natasha made her way over to the TV and turned on the power. "Just sit back and enjoy the program."

What? Program? They were seriously having him watch TV? Was that even considered torture? Tony pondered it a little as Clint and Natasha silently filed out of the room, the door locking shut as they left. In the half a second of eerie quiet, Tony drew his attention to the massive screen in front of his eyes, which was now starting to gain shape and color.

"_Hola! Soy Dora!"_

Oh God.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: I've kept y'all waiting long enough - this has been on my computer since Saturday. Just to warn you guys, this chapter is incredibly short, and is more of a filler, but I hope you guys enjoy this nonetheless. Please feel free to submit a review, check out my other stories (especially _She Belongs to Clint Barton) _and take my poll if you haven't already!  
Peace out to the best fans ever!  
~PJA**

Chapter 10

Clint and Natasha had joined Steve and Bruce for a late night tea (despite Clint not really drinking tea). The two prepared the cups of piping hot serenity for the super soldier and the doctor, along with cups for themselves, and sat down on the couches in the living area, soaking in the peaceful surroundings.

"I didn't know you two drank tea," Steve remarked.

"I do, sometimes," Natasha said. "Clint doesn't."

That was when Steve noticed the contorted, nostril-flared look plastered on Clint's face. Steve stifled a laugh at it. It looked like a young child staring down broccoli. Clint sniffed the tea, and then placed it back on its saucer. Steve could tell by the twitch in his hands that he was resisting the urge to knock it over.

After a sip of tea, Bruce set down his cup. "It's too quiet," he observed. "Does anyone know what happened to Tony? I haven't seen him for a couple hours."

Clint flicked his eyes at Natasha. Her lips twitched, hinting at a smile.

And as if on cue, there was suddenly a loud scream that pierced their eardrums. Steve and Bruce looked around frantically, searching for the source.

"What the hell was that?" Steve asked, on alert.

Clint smiled and looked at Natasha. _Sweet revenge_, his looks told her.

Natasha rose. "I think I know where Tony is."

As she made her way to the elevator, Clint on her tail, Bruce and Steve reluctantly followed. They were terrified of what they might find.

* * *

"Make it stop! PLEASE! I BEG OF THEE! _MAKE IT STOOOOPPPPP!_"

Tony couldn't handle it anymore. He'd been forced to watch _six hours _of Dora the Explorer, Go Diego Go, The Wonder Pets, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Special Agent Oso, Blue's Clues, and to top it all off, Ni-Hao Ki-lan. It was too much! _Too much! _Tony broke after three hours. He began to scream, cry, moan, and curse at the TV. Hours 4-5 he began offering rebuttals to the idiotic characters.

"THE BRIDGE IS BEHIND THAT FUCKING FLOWER HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT JUST LOOK BEHIND THE FLOWER!"

"MY FAVORITE PART WAS WHEN YOU GOT HIT BY THAT TRACTOR! Oh wait, that didn't happen, _but it was still my favorite part!_"

"WHY THE HELL DO YOUR PARENTS LET YOU WANDER AROUND THE JUNGLE ALL BY YOURSELF WITH A CREEPY BLUE MONKEY? YOU'RE LIKE SIX! YOU COULD BE KIDNAPPED OR RAPED OR SOMETHING!"

Hour five was when Tony just began to scream at the TV. No logical words required – just screaming was enough to express himself.

It was when Phineas and Ferb began at the chime of hour six that Tony cried for help and mercy at the top of his lungs. He _could not _and _would not _sit through Phineas and Ferb if his life depended on it. Struggling against his restraints, crying until his voicebox cracked, tears streaked down his cheek, waiting for this torture to end.

Suddenly, he saw the bright light of what he was sure was death. It shined upon his face, blinding him, giving him the sweet mercy of not being able to see the accursed TV. He relaxed, waiting for it all to end.

"TONY!"

Wait; that wasn't death. That was Bruce.

Tony's eyes flicked toward the light. "BRUCE! GET ME OUT OF HERE! SAVE ME FROM THE WORST TORTURE KNOWN TO MANKIND!"

Two large silhouettes rushed into the room, flocking to his side. They snapped open the restraints and yanked the sticky adhesive off of Tony's face. He cried out, though the pain was nothing compared to what he had gone through in the past six hours.

Tony practically fell out of the chair and into someone's arms. "Mommy…?" Tony whispered.

"Tony, what happened to you?" Steve asked, his mellow voice coming from somewhere uncomfortably close. Tony reasoned that it was Steve he was currently leaning on, but he didn't care. He didn't care about one little thing at the moment.

"It was awful, Bruce," Tony wailed, despite it being Steve who asked. "I…me…it was _torture_…_how will we get to blueberry hill?_"

"Shh, it's okay, Tony," Steve soothed, patting his back. "We're gonna get you someplace nice and safe, okay?"

So Steve half-dragged and half-carried Tony out of the torture chamber, with Bruce following closely. On the way out, they passed a smiling Clint and Natasha. They were pleased with themselves, knowing that their work was done.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Don't worry, guys, I haven't abandoned you! I'm SOO sorry for the wait, but I haven't been able to work on anything - I was in my school's production of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, so that took up about 85% of my time. BUT, i have decided to give a gift to you all and present to you...THE NEXT CHAPTER! YAY! Now, I'm sorry if this one isn't the best or the funniest, but I wanted to get this done. And also, I'm trying to improve my writing skills (I actually listen in English class) so for the next few things I post (not this) I will be trying out slightly more sophisticated writing.  
****Oh also, if you didn't know, next week I'm having a self-appointed Oneshot Week, where I will post a new oneshot every day from Sunday to Friday, and on Saturday I will post a surprise! What will it be? No one knows... But make sure to stay tuned for that!  
Next update I plan to personally address some of my reviews (too lazy to do it all now, sorry).  
And thanks for all the feedback I've been getting, guys! It truly means a lot to me. This story has gotten _31,000 hits!_ I cannot thank you enough! But I do have one request - I want EVERYONE reading this to click on that review button at the bottom of the page when you finish reading! Please!  
Enjoy the long-awaited update!  
BTW - this one's for you, WickedBlue!  
~PJA  
BTW - anyone who is able to identify the Toy Story reference gets Awesome Points!**

Chapter 11

The next morning was not like one of those mornings where Tony woke up with no recollection of the night before. Tony _wished _he had no recollection of the previous night. He could remember everything clearly, and he wanted to stab himself for it. Last night was possibly one of the worst nights he had ever endured, and if anyone said _anything _about it he would personally find the room and make them go through that torture themselves.

Tony had sauntered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, before he realized what day it was. It was July nineteenth, nine days before his deadline. He cursed under his breath. He had to step up his game, or it would be too late. If he did not win this bet he would never hear the end of it. He began mentally planning his next move.

"Ehem."

That was when Tony realized there was actually someone else in the kitchen. Why would someone else be awake at this time? It was only…eleven-thirty. Okay, so maybe it was reasonable. But why did they insist on being in the same room as him? He guessed people loved him too much.

Blinking for a moment, his vision cleared up and revealed it to be Clint sitting in the kitchen, legs crossed, and a wicked grin plastered where his mouth should have been. Tony then put on his angry eyes.

"What?" he spat.

Clint only grinned wider. "You enjoy your program last night, Stark? From what I heard, it seems like it was simply a _pleasure_."

Clenching his fists, Tony resisted the strong urge to sock the Hawk in the jaw. He knew Clint could easily take him down in a fight, and Tony didn't want to risk adding facial injury to the list where _permanent mental scars _currently resided.

"Clint, please go away," he said through clenched teeth. "Like, now."

Clint's grin morphed into a smirk. "Aw, is wittle Tony getting angwy?" he mocked.

Tony was seriously about to deliver a punch when Bruce entered the kitchen, holding a cup of herbal tea.

Clint jumped out of his seat and made a disgusted face. "Ack! Ew! I hate tea." He stalked out of the room, leaving poor Bruce confused as to what just happened.

* * *

Tony slumped down on the couch next to Steve and began to whine. "_Steeeeeeve _help _meeee_."

Steve didn't look up from the yellowed old book he was reading. "No."

"_Pleeeese_."

"No."

"Why _not_?"

"Because you're annoying and I don't want to. If I do, I lose."

"Come _on_, Capsicle! Don't you want the lovebirds to finally realize they love each other?"

Steve paused for a moment. "Yes, I do. But I want it to be of their own accord. I don't want it to be forced."

Tony stuck his tongue out. "You're no fun. I'm going to go talk to Bruce."

Steve shook his head as Tony swaggered out of the living room. "For a grown man, he certainly does act like a child sometimes," he muttered as he stuck his nose back into Charles Dickens.

Meanwhile, Tony was making his way to Bruce's lab, making a mental note to install moving walkways like they have at airports (yes, he had to use a public airport once – it was one of the most disgusting things he ever had to do). He hoped Bruce would have some sort of plan or suggestion for what he should do next, because Tony was blank on ideas. His brain was completely frazzled from enduring the torture of little kids' shows for six hours, and it didn't look like it was going to repair itself for a little while. Maybe Bruce would help.

With complete and utter cockiness, Tony waltzed into the lab, though still failing to distract Bruce from whatever the hell he was working on.

"What is it, Tony?" Bruce didn't even look up, nor did he flinch.

"Brucie, I need some help," Tony stated, noting that Bruce crinkled his nose at the name. "I'm fresh out of ideas for getting the Widow and her Hawk to admit their love. I need to do this in nine days, Bruce! What am I going to do? Help me!"

Bruce finally set down the screwdriver he had been holding and carefully slipped off his glasses. "Tony, remind me of why in the world I would help you with this."

"Because you love me!" Bruce gave him a look. "Okay, maybe not, but seriously, we _need _to get these two together! It is driving me _crazy _watching them! I have literally sustained physical and mental head injuries for these two! If this doesn't happen in nine days, I think I might just..."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Might just what?"

Tony looked at him. "I don't even know. But it'll be drastic, I know that. So this _has _to happen. _Please_, Bruce! Help me, please! _PLEASE!_"

Bruce must have pitied the pathetic look on Tony's face, who was now on his knees in front of the doctor, literally begging. Normally Bruce wouldn't want anyone to be in this position for him, but having Tony Stark on his knees begging for his help felt extremely satisfactory in Bruce's gut. So for a minute, he contemplated, and that was one of the most tedious minutes of Tony's life. Bruce enjoyed his time torturing the genius, tapping his finger against his cranium and stroking his chin. But finally, he spoke.

"Okay, I'll help you."

Tony leapt into the air. "YES! Thank you so so much, Bruce! What do want? A car? A laser? Peace of mind? Because I think I can manage to get you all of those, but maybe not the peace of mind…"

"You don't need to repay me. Honest. You've given me so much already; you don't need to give me more." Tony sized up the doctor, who looked completely honest with the words coming out of his mouth, though there was the corner of a smile on his lips. That was probably just amusement from Tony's antics.

"Great! So, watcha got for me?" Tony sounded as eager as a little kid on Christmas morning, his elbows on the desk, propping his head up.

Bruce shook his head in amusement. "Hang on, Tony, give me a minute to think."

Tony was giving him the same little-kid look as Bruce thought.

"Alright, here's what I thought of," Bruce said after a moment. Tony leaned in closer. "You talk to them."

This was obviously not what Tony expected to hear. "Um…_what_?"

"Talk to them," Bruce repeated. "Ask them questions. Ask them _why _they won't admit their love, or something. Keep in mind; it might take them a little while to open up to you, so don't start with that question. Ask them some lighter questions first."

Tony pondered what Bruce said. That might actually be effective. However, doing exactly what Bruce told him to would _definitely _not be as fun as messing with the assassins. Maybe he could ask them some…_interesting _questions…

"You're right, Bruce, that is an _excellent _idea," Tony declared, standing up tall. "I shall go do that _right _now."

As Tony strutted out of the room, Bruce could only wonder what devious little plan he'd crafted in his mind.

* * *

It didn't take long to find the assassins. They were lounging in the living room, enjoying cups of tea (well, Natasha was enjoying tea; Clint had a cup of Hawaiian Punch). They looked so peaceful. Tony would enjoy ruining their day.

"Mr. and Mrs. Barton!" Tony announced, causing their heads to snap towards him. Tony grinned seeing the looks on their faces. "You two have some answers to give me."

Natasha gave him a subtle look of death. "Whatever questions you have, they better be somewhat reasonable."

_At least it's better than her cutting me off with a "no," _Tony thought. And seeing as the Hawk wasn't making any denials, he took that as an okay to commence with the questions.

"Why the hell won't you two admit that you love each other?" Tony asked, diving right in. "I mean, it's really obvious that you do. I see the way you look at each other, and how you treat each other. It is a complete mystery to me why you won't admit it."

Tony's comment was followed by a moment of utter silence. Then, Clint did the last thing Tony expected. He grinned.

"Why Tony, there's an obvious explanation to your puzzlement," Clint stated, a hint of something a little devious in his voice. "Tasha and I are siblings."

Tony's jaw could not have dropped lower. His eyes bulged and a look of complete and utter disbelief took over his face.

Siblings? _Siblings?_ He refused to believe it. There was _no way _they could be siblings! They looked _nothing _alike! There were no physical features on the two that were alike. Sure, they acted alike, but that had to be years and years of being partners…right?

"_WHAT?_" Tony exploded. "THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL YOU TWO CAN BE SIBLINGS! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LYING TO ME?"

However, Natasha's face was completely straight. "We're not lying, Stark. We're actually siblings. Clint is my smart-ass older brother."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the pair. "Tell me then…_how _are you siblings?"

"We were separated as kids," Clint began. "I remained in America, but Tasha was kidnapped and brought to Russia, and raised in the Red Room…I don't really need to get into the details of that. Anyway, we grew into adulthood, and when I joined S. H. I. E. L. D., they told me to go find this woman in Russia and kill her. So I went to Russia, and when I found her, I recognized her as my long-lost sibling. I brought her back to America, and here we are."

Tony was left in complete puzzlement. How the hell…? It just didn't seem possible! It just…he…she…I…ACK! Tony's mind was a confused mess. It didn't seem to fit or make sense at all, but the two of them told it so seriously! How could you _not _crack up telling that story if it was a lie?

"I…I want proof," Tony said.

"Go ask Fury," Natasha stated simply.

"I don't wanna get up."

"Have JARVIS call him."

Tony sighed. "JARVIS, call Fury, please."

"Right away, sir," the AI confirmed.

After a moment of holding, Tony was connected to Fury on the line. "What do you want now, Stark?" Fury asked with a resigned tone in his voice.

"Are Barton and Romanoff really siblings?" Tony blurted.

"Yes, yes they are," the one-eyed man said without any hesitation.

Tony was puzzled even further. He tried to find loopholes in the story with his frazzled brain. "Then…why do they have different last names?"

"Romanoff was given her last name while in Russia. She didn't want to change it."

"Why do they look so different?"

"A white rabbit can have white rabbits and brown rabbits in the same litter, Stark."

Tony felt resigned. He didn't know what to do. There was just no way this was true…was it? Could it be possible that Clint and Natasha were…siblings? The thought was just so appalling, and yet…he was starting to believe it.

Tony hung up without another word. He knew what he was going to do next. He was going to _prove _this, once and for all. He was going to hack into the files at S. H. I. E. L. D., find the files of Romanoff and Barton, and see what was really true.

"I have to do something," Tony said, shooting straight up. "You guys, um…keep doing whatever…_siblings _do, I guess." Tony shot out of there like a bullet, eager to leave the awkward tension of the room.

However, once Tony was out of earshot, Clint and Natasha burst out laughing. The type of laughter where you can't stop, no matter what.

After calming down (only slightly), Clint was able to ask her, between laughs, "You think we fooled him?"

Natasha barely managed to squeak out, "He won't come near us for another month about our relationship."

They didn't even notice when Bruce came in to them rolling on the floor.

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? TELL ME BELOW! And don't worry - next chapter will clear everything up.**


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Guys, I'm INCREDIBLY sorry for the month-long wait! You know how it is, life gets in the way - BUT I'M BACK! I haven't abandoned you! Tony will continue to be an idiot and try to get Clint and Natasha to admit their love...while Steve and Bruce do a little plotting behind the scenes. And, since I feel extremely bad about leaving you all hanging, I gave y'all a pretty long chapter to make up for it, as well as a recap of last chapter at the end of the author's note. Oh BTW, sorry if it's a little OOC. Humor comes first, ya know.  
****Feel free to check out all the stuff I wrote for oneshot week, as well as any of my other stories!  
Oh, and anyone who can spot the _Up _or _Despicable Me _references will get Awesome Points! (and yes, I'm keeping a list)  
Peace out to the world's greatest and most loyal fans!  
~PJA**

**Disclaimer: I guess I should put one here...I don't own. Although my friend and I are such Marvel people that Marvel should just start paying us to advertise - we do it for free already.**

**_Recap: Tony began to recover from his previous torture. He annoyed Steve to help him, and then went to Bruce for help, and he told him to talk to Clint and Natasha. The two assassins then told Tony they were siblings, which was then confirmed by Fury. After Tony left, Clint and Natasha started laughing because they just pulled the best prank ever, and then were caught by Bruce. Also, Clint really freaking hates tea._  
**

Chapter 12

Bruce simply stared at the two master assassins currently rolling around on the floor, laughing like seals.

"Um...what is going on here?"

It was another minute before either was coherent enough to notice the doctor.

"We..." Clint paused to dry the years of laughter dripping down his face. "We just pulled the _greatest_ prank known to mankind on the one and only Tony Stark!"

Bruce was skeptical. "Do I want to know what you did?"

"We told him that Clint and I are siblings," Natasha told him.

A smile crept onto Bruce's face. "You did not."

Clint grinned like a proud little kid. "We did. And it worked beautifully. You should've seen the look on his face."

The thought of it sent Clint and Natasha into another fit of giggles, and this time Bruce was sucked in, though he hadn't actually seen the face.

"So where is he now?" Bruce asked once recovered.

"No idea," Natasha said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Probably off to find proof that we're not. He won't find it though. We made sure of that."

Bruce grinned knowingly and crossed his arms. "You guys hacked your own files, didn't you?"

"And that's why they call you the doctor," Clint stated.

* * *

It was a shame Tony had to do this with a fried brain. This was an _extremely_ important task. He had to be as thorough as possible, and that was a little difficult with only half a brain working. Tony was currently sitting at the computer in his workshop, sifting through the files in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, which his computer was currently hacking. Really, for an intelligence agency, they needed better security systems on their computers.

After about thirty agonizing minutes, he finally found the files of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. His eyes lit up when he saw the names. He clicked the Hawk's file first, and quickly began to scan it all. If he was being honest, some of the things he saw in Clint's file were terrifying. He decided not to linger on most of that, and he scrolled down further.

Tony was beginning to lose focus and zone out until he spotted the name _Natasha Romanoff. _That piqued his interest. He read more intently.

_Agent Clint Barton sent to Moscow, Russia, to eliminate Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. Agent failed the mission, and instead brought the Black Widow back to headquarters. Intentions were unclear._

This didn't surprise Tony. He'd heard the same thing when he went back and watched the tapes of Natasha and Loki. But what he read next _did _surprise him.

_It was later revealed that the Black Widow was the sister of Agent Barton, and would be a valuable agent in the field._

That blew Tony out of his chair. Siblings? It was true? No, it couldn't be. How was it possible? They were in love! They couldn't be siblings! Tony began to frantically read through Clint's file. Every time Natasha was mentioned, it said the same thing; Natasha was his sister. Tony abandoned Clint's file and went over to Natasha's file. However, hers was no different. It said that Clint was her brother. Tony's head began to pound. No, this couldn't be happening! All of his hard work and efforts were crumbling before his eyes…his life was amounting to nothing. No, that wasn't true. He was Tony Stark. He was filthy rich, and he was Iron Man. This only took a chunk out of his life; not his whole life. But still. Why him?

Tony closed his computer and stormed out of his workshop in distress. What would he do now? He had nothing to entertain him now! He still wasn't sure how it was possible, though it seemed as if that was the truth. He sighed in defeat.

Making his way into the living room, he flopped down on the nearest couch. He considered turning on the TV, but the remote was too far away, and he was too drained and upset to go get it. He supposed he could tell JARVIS to turn on the TV, but he didn't have the energy.

It was in that moment while Tony was having internal trauma that Bruce decided to enter the room. He spotted Tony sprawled on the sofa, and immediately knew something was troubling him.

"What's wrong, Tony?" Bruce asked as he approached.

"Everything is a _lie_, Bruce," Tony wailed. "I don't know what to do with myself anymore. And my knee hurts. And my elbow hurts, and I have to go to the bathroom."

Bruce was still puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"They're actually siblings, Bruce!" Tony cried, sitting up stick-straight. "I looked in their S.H.I.E.L.D. files – it's the truth! If they're siblings, they can't be in love! My dreams are ruined! And I can't win anymore!"

Normally Bruce would just let Tony wail in misery, and have the satisfaction of knowing something the genius didn't. But Bruce was a good man, and he genuinely hated seeing Tony like this. He was his friend. And friends told friends the truth, no matter how good the joke was.

"Um, Tony…I have to tell you something," Bruce said, internally biting his lip.

Tony looked at his fellow scientist. "What?"

Bruce hesitated. "They're not actually siblings."

It was a moment before Tony said anything. "What? What do you mean?"

"They were lying to you."

"If they were lying, why do their _S.H.I.E.L.D. files _say they're siblings?"

"They're spies, Tony. Did you think they couldn't hack their own files?"

Tony suddenly felt extremely dumb. Why didn't he think of that before? Of _course_ that's what they did! They tricked him. And he believed it. And now they would pay…and possibly admit their love while they were at it.

"Bruce, I have a plan," Tony said, the energy now flowing back to him. "Do you want to help me?"

"Nope," Bruce said, already making his exit. "I'm already in deep enough as it is."

* * *

Tony was smiling even before he reached the assassins sitting on the couch. He was just as giddy as a seven-year-old pulling his first prank; he was that excited for what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and braced himself to walk into the room.

And even better, he was able to catch snippets of their conversation.

"See, isn't this a better choice than _Letters to Juliet_?"

"I will admit, you picked better this time, Clint. Mission Impossible beats sappy romance movies any day."

"And doesn't that one guy on the screen look just like me?"

"He does, actually. That's a little scary. He's _just _like you."

That was when Tony interrupted the assassins and their movie watching. He strolled in and immediately brought attention to himself.

"Hey Clint, Natasha, could you do something for me?" he asked in probably the most obnoxious way possible.

Natasha sighed and paused the movie in a shot that made Tom Cruise's nose look _huge_. The two assassins simultaneously turned around and glared at Tony.

"Chances are that the answer is _no. _What do you want, Tony?" Natasha spat.

"Oh, I don't think it'll be something you will mind too much…could you guys hug each other and then let me take a picture of you?" Tony lifted the camera that he'd brought with him.

The two looked as if he had asked them to poke their eyes out with a stick.

"_NO._" Natasha shouted.

"Why would we do that? Why do you _want _us to do that?" Clint asked.

"I thought you guys wouldn't mind," Tony said, a smile creeping onto his face. "I mean, since you are siblings and all…"

Clint and Natasha gave each other a look. They knew that if they wanted to keep the act up, they'd have to do it. However, they didn't know that they'd already been found out.

Natasha sighed. "Alright. You win this one, Stark."

Tony could only smile wider.

Clint stood up and brought Natasha into his embrace. Tony quickly snapped the picture before they could change their minds.

"Well thank you all for your cooperation I have to go now see ya," Tony rushed the words out of his mouth and sped off, terrified that Natasha would kill him.

Natasha looked into Clint's eyes. "Do you think he's up to something?"

"He's definitely up to something. But don't worry about it now. We can kill him later."

The couple didn't leave each other's arms.

* * *

Steve was walking back from the Stark Tower gym, sweat matted in his hair, when he noticed something strange taped on the wall. He yanked it off and got a closer look.

It was, to Steve's disbelief, a picture of Clint and Natasha hugging, surrounded by a bunch of pink and red hearts. Steve used his hand towel to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, hoping he'd seen wrong. But a second look heeded no different. It was _definitely _Clint and Natasha hugging surrounded by a bunch of hearts. Steve shook his head.

However, when he looked up, he saw that the hallway was _covered _in copies of this picture. Steve's eyes widened. Clint and Natasha would _not _like this. Not one little bit. Steve quickened his pace and entered the living room, which was also plastered with the photos. He made his way over to Bruce, who was sitting on the couch with a cup of tea.

"Have you seen this?" Steve asked, shoving the photo he'd taken into Bruce's face. He realized it was a dumb question right after he asked it.

"Yes, I have," Bruce said. "Clint and Natasha are _not _going to like it."

"One of Tony's schemes?" Steve asked.

Bruce nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "Clint and Natasha are out right now; Clint really wanted to show Natasha 'this really awesome store' that he found. I'd hate to see their reactions when they get back."

Of course, Bruce had immaculate timing, as that's when they heard a bloodcurdling, furious scream.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

Steve looked at Bruce with utter fear in his eyes. No one wanted to be in the room when Natasha was like this.

"_STARK!_"

Then again, no one particularly wanted to suffer Clint's wrath, either.

The doctor and super-soldier attempted to make a quick scramble for the exit, but failed to do so before the assassins entered the room.

"Rogers. Banner."

The said two froze and gulped. When Natasha spoke with cold, hard seriousness and used last names, you knew you were in trouble.

Bruce was the first to turn around. "Yes, Natasha?" he asked with surprising calm.

"Do you happen to know where Stark is?"

"Um…I'm not sure at the moment," Bruce answered. "But I think he's in his lab," he added quickly when Natasha gave him the look of death.

Natasha backed off. "Thank you for your cooperation." She stormed off in the other direction, Clint close on her tail.

Bruce turned around and looked at Steve. "Hide?"

"Hiding never sounded better."

* * *

Again in the burlap sack. You'd think Clint wouldn't use something as cliché as that. The man killed with a _bow and arrow_, and not a gun, for Pete's sake. They only use those in fantasy movies. Tony would've thought that he would've come up with something more efficient or high-tech than a sack, but no. A sack it was. Tony hoped that they were taking him somewhere better this time. Although, then again, nothing was worse than the last time.

When they threw him in a chair, tied him to it, and whisked the bag off his head, Tony saw that they were in his secret stash of booze. While this was _definitely _better, he wondered how in the world they knew where his secret alcohol stash was. That was almost as secret as the Pony room, and kept under the same protection. The assassins were clever.

"What are we doing here?" Tony asked, only a little fear in the pit of his stomach. "Are you going to fill me up with alcohol? 'Cause let's face it, that's the opposite of a punishment."

Natasha appeared not to have heard him. She picked up a bottle of red wine from the nearest shelf. "Now what do we have here?" Tony really didn't like the tone in her voice. "Well this is a fancy wine, now isn't it? Imported from Switzerland?"

Tony gulped. "Yes, yes it is. What of it?"

Natasha smashed the bottle against the floor.

Tony nearly jumped in his seat. "What the _hell _did you do that for? That's a waste of perfectly good wine!"

Natasha said nothing. But Clint picked up a bottle of whiskey from the shelf nearest him. He whistled. "Well, aren't we one for expensive whiskey?" He gave a sly grin. "It would be a shame if it were…accidentally destroyed maliciously."

Clint threw the bottle at the nearest wall.

Tony was appalled. "Why would you do such a thing?"

The assassins refused to acknowledge anything Tony said. They simply began to pick up bottles of wine, bourbon, scotch, whiskey, beer, and vodka from the shelves and smash them to smithereens. The liquid began to puddle on the floor, giving off the world's strongest stench. Natasha and Clint had to be careful not to step on broken glass.

And all the while, Tony was forced to watch. He broke down into tears, watching his babies being brutally murdered, and there being nothing he could do about it. It was too much. He was going through too much internal trauma at once. He just prayed that they would do it quickly, and that they would let some of them live.

They complied to one of his wishes. They only smashed about a third of his stock, but they took their sweet time doing so. Each one got their own personalized murder. Clint eventually took to doing accents, and laughing manically after each one bled to death. Tony was frightened of the man when he did that.

Eventually, though, they stopped. Tony was about dead himself by then. He had closed his eyes long before (though hearing it was even pain enough), so he felt the ropes around him loosen. He jumped out of the chair and ran away, sobbing, too ashamed of himself and what he'd done, and distressed at the loss of his booze.

Clint gave Natasha a celebratory hug, careful not to step in the broken glass. "Think that'll do him for a couple days?"

"No," Natasha said, her face buried in Clint's shoulder. "We only mentally scarred him. He's persistent. He'll come back."

"Yeah. But we can take him. We won't give in."

Clint looked down into Natasha's sparkling eyes. He was, as always, tempted. Tempted to make a move. For some reason the temptation was stronger now more than ever, and it was all he could do to hold back. It was too risky. He couldn't risk losing everything he'd built up with Natasha. He couldn't do it.

With a burning face, he gently broke the embrace and left the dark, dank room, not caring about all the glass he stepped in.

* * *

In their secret anti-Natasha hideout, Bruce and Steve were waiting out the storm. It'd been an hour and a half, but they were going to wait a little bit longer. They weren't sure how long a Blackhawk storm was supposed to last.

"Steve," said Bruce, breaking the silence between them, "can you help me with something?"

Steve looked at his companion. "Sure. With what?"

Bruce couldn't help but grin. "Payback against Tony. I helped him…and now I want to give him what he deserves."

Steve smiled. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this opportunity."

Bruce, too, smiled. "Good. Now, word of what we're going to do _cannot _get out. Do you understand?"

"You have my word, Doctor."

"Good. Now, do we have a deal?"

Steve took Bruce's hand and shook it. "Deal."

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? PLEASE PLEASE tell me in a review! I wanna hear what you thought! And I'm always open to minor suggestions ;)**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: You don't know how sorry I feel for the delay. I haven't forgotten you! Life just gets in the way and I can't do this all the time. So I have rewarded you with an EXTRA long chapter; hopefully the quality is good too, though I have my doubts. PLEASE leave your reviews, have a laugh, tell your friends, and enjoy yourself! Stay tuned for the next chapter, which I can't promise will be soon, but I'll try. If you want updates on when my stuffmight be coming in, please check out my profile, as I try to update that. And whole you're there, take my poll!**

**Love you!**

**~PJA**

Chapter 13

Something was wrong. Tony woke up feeling dreadfully cold. He saw his breath in front of him, which unnerved him. Then he stopped and thought to himself – _When did I fall asleep_? But then he remembered – after witnessing the murders of his babies, he'd then taken one of his strongest bottles of vodka, which he had so fortunately left in the kitchen, nursed it to emptiness, and then promptly passed out on the couch. That was the extent of his memory.

And now here he was. It was dusk, he was hungry, and it was cold. But then it struck him – _why _was it so cold? It was the middle of July! Clutching his shoulders, Tony rose from the couch a little too quickly. His head began to spin but soon recovered enough to stand up straight and move forward. He shuffled his feet towards the thermostat, which happened to be in another room. Ugh. He hated the cold. He only owned probably two jackets, not counting the ones that came with suits.

Tony stopped in the middle of his stride. His dysfunctional brain had momentarily forgotten about J.A.R.V.I.S. How stupid could he get during one of these episodes?

"J.A.R.V.I.S., turn the heat up, please," Tony demanded, voice surprisingly smooth.

"I can't, Sir."

Tony did a double-take and rubbed his eyes. He thought he heard wrong. Did J.A.R.V.I.S. just _refuse _him?

"Did you just say no to me, J.A.R.V.I.S.?" Tony asked.

"I did, Sir."

Well then. "And why can't you turn up the heat?"

"My protocols have been overridden. I am unable to turn on the heat."

"Who the hell overrode your protocols?"

"I am forbidden to say."

"Was it Banner? Or Barton?"

"I am unable to say. Though it is highly likely that it was a scientist who did so."

Tony cursed under his breath. Bruce. But why would Bruce do such a thing? Tony hadn't done anything to him…recently.

"Where is Bruce?"

"He and Mister Rogers are three floors up in the small break room you never use."

"Curse him. I almost forgot about that room."

Shivering, Tony regrouped and turned to face J.A.R.V.I.S. – or where he _thought_J.A.R.V.I.S. was.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., open up the elevator, please," he commanded, shuffling his feet to the elevator.

"I apologize, Sir, but I cannot," the AI said. "As I said, my protocols have been overridden. You'll have to take the stairs."

Damn that man. He really wanted to make it hard on him. Cursing, Tony pounded his way to the stairs and marched up them two at a time. He shook the frost off his nose as he ascended, eventually landing three floors up. He practically skipped to the small break room on the corner of the floor. Peeking into the small window on the door, he saw Bruce and Steve cradling mugs of hot chocolate or coffee – he couldn't tell which – and perched in front of portable heaters. They looked as comfortable as Clint on top of the refrigerator, and happy as a clam. Rage melted the ice off Tony's face. Coming to his senses (what was left of them, at least), he pounded on the door.

"Hey! Bruce! Let me in!" Tony demanded. Bruce's head slowly pivoted toward Tony. Bruce's face was covered in a smile that seemed to more fit Clint, and he raised his mug.

"Sorry, I can't do that. Steve and I have business to discuss. No genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropists allowed," he boasted, his voice muffled through the layers of window and door between them.

The little half-grin that appeared on Steve's face only made Tony more irritated. "It's _my building. _Let me in! I could have J.A.R.V.I.S. kick you out!"

"Let's just say J.A.R.V.I.S. has a new favorite person right now."

Tony almost didn't believe his ears. Bruce did _not _just say that.

"What do you have against me?" Tony blurted out before realizing that it was a stupid question. "I haven't done anything to you recently! I've allowed you to stay at my tower! I've let you eat my food and use my gym! And I do you the favor of making you stretchy pants for emergency reasons!" The size of Bruce's smile began to decrease. "I've been wonderful! So now the bottom line – _let me in to that nice warm room!_"

Steve sighed and shook his head. "Oh, Tony. I'm afraid we can't do that."

Tony slapped a hand to the door in desperation. "_Why not?_"

Bruce, ever so calm, took a sip from his mug. "I give you a favor, and now you pay the price."

Tony was confused. "Favor? What favor?"

"Do you remember when you asked for help on what to do about your little _problem_concerning the birds and the spiders? Well, now I'm taking my toll."

Tony facepalmed upon the door. "Shoot. I completely forgot about that. Come on, Brucie, can't you just let it go? Do an old friend a favor?"

Bruce simply ignored him and took another sip of whatever liquid was in his mug.

Tony jerked his head toward Steve. "Steve? Help me out here, buddy."

Steve shook his head. "No way. This is sweet revenge for me, too." He set his mug down on the nearest table and stretched his arms behind his head, leaning back in his chair.

Tony was exasperated. "Well, if I can't come in, then what am I supposed to do?" He crossed his arms, rubbing his hands over his shivering skin.

"Get a coat," Bruce said simply.

"I don't have a coat!"

Steve gave him a look of judgment. "You don't have a coat?" He left his relaxed stance. "You decided to come and live in New York and you don't have a coat?"

"Hey, it's the summer right now!" Tony defended. "And I figured that in the winter I would just stay inside my _heat-controlled _building." He shot Bruce a look. "Or I'd just not stay the winter."

"Well, that's not my problem," Bruce said. "You're not coming in here. Either go get a coat or jacket or something, or find something to entertain yourself."

Tony considered this. The latter option seemed like it would be more effective than begging Bruce to let him in, so he bolted, hoping that this cold temperature might just work to his advantage in his pleasures.

Back in the room, Bruce and Steve were partly amused, and partly concerned. They weren't sure what exactly Tony was planning to do, but they had good guesses, and it wasn't something they were exactly excited for.

"I hope he doesn't get the brains to realize he could just go outside," Steve said.

Bruce laughed. Really laughed. "He's still slightly drunk. It'll take him a little while to regain his senses."

* * *

Tony sealed all the exits, which was a lot harder than you think it might be. He shut all the doors, sealed all the windows, closed up all the air vents, concealed all the emergency exits, shut the garage, locked the secret underground tunnel, and shut all entrances to the balconies.

He shut them all, except for one, but he was going to close it up as soon as Clint and Natasha got back. He had a devious plan in mind, and it would only work if Clint and Natasha were shut up tight in the freezing-cold building.

Tony sat in the security room, wrapped up in about three blankets, attempting to eat some chicken noodle soup. His eyes, locked in a gaze, were set upon the screen pointing at the front entrance, where Clint and Natasha were bound to walk through at any moment. Tony was restless.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., are they back?" Tony asked with impatience.

"Not yet, Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

Tony sighed. "When will they be back?"

"I do not know, Sir."

"Well, do you know where they went?"

"Agent Barton said something about 'Showing Natasha this really awesome Batman stuff in town.'"

Tony almost burst out laughing hearing Clint's words come out of J.A.R.V.I.S.'s British…mouth? Voicebox? Well, nonetheless, Tony had to be careful not to spew soup out his nose.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., never imitate Clint again unless you're trying to kill me."

"My apologies, Sir. Duly noted."

"But please never try to kill me."

"I can make no promises, Sir. Miss Potts may someday have to go to drastic measures."

Tony admired the AI's sense of humor and arrogance. He was becoming more and more like a human every day.

However, in all the confusion, Tony failed to see movement on the screen, which now caught his eye. He jerked in his chair, knocking his soup to the ground. He gripped the sides of the screen with both hands. "J.A.R.V.I.S., why didn't you tell me they showed up?!"

"You were begging me not to kill you, Sir."

Tony sneered at where he thought J.A.R.V.I.S. was (he really needed to give him eyes or something – it was a little disconcerting at times, talking to nothing). "No more excuses. Give me audio on this thing!"

"Right away, Sir."

Immediately Tony's ears were blasted by Clint's voice. "Didn't I tell you, Tasha? I told you that place was awesome!"

"I refuse to give in and agree with you," Natasha said. Tony could see a smile creeping onto her face.

"I can see through that mask of yours. You love it, I know you did." Clint was smiling like an excited three-year-old. Natasha said nothing, though the smile on her face grew larger.

They turned to face a different direction, and that was when Tony finally was able to get a good look at the couple. They were both decked out in Batman shirts, hats, lanyards, belts, wristbands, and, if he was seeing correctly, knee-high socks. They were also carrying full shopping bags with the Batman logo and "The Ultimate Batman Shop, NYC," written on the side. Tony could tell that someone had a secret Batman obsession.

"I can't remember…do we need a key for this thing?" Clint asked.

Natasha chuckled. "No, just ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to let you in."

"Oh. Right." Even in the dusk, Tony could see the Hawk turn red in embarrassment. "Uh, J.A.R.V.I.S., can we come in, please?"

"Of course, Agents Barton and Romanoff."

The lock clicked open, and as soon as they were through, Tony frantically shut the door and told J.A.R.V.I.S. to seal it. He managed to do it in record time, and before Clint and Natasha realized something was up.

He saw that the cold was the first thing they noticed.

Natasha said a word in Russian that didn't sound so polite. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"Why are you looking at me? I don't know! It was perfectly fine when we left!" Clint exclaimed.

"Well I want to know why, how, and who. They're going to get an ass-beating."

The hairs on the back of Tony's neck pricked up. This probably wasn't going to end well for him. _But wait, this is Bruce's fault!_Tony thought. He immediately felt better, but he wasn't completely relieved. He couldn't shake a feeling of paranoia.

"Well, let's just go back outside," Clint reasoned. "Go back out into town, grab a bite to eat, wait for the heat to turn back on."

Natasha nodded, a sour look still on her face. With her Russian background, Tony didn't think the cold would bother her _this_much. Maybe she'd adapted _too _well too America?

Clint turned around to push open the door, but to no avail. The door wouldn't budge. Clint tried pushing the door with all his might, but still it would not open. Natasha tried her luck, but no good there, either. Clint became extremely frustrated.

"Why the hell won't the door open?"

Tony couldn't help but let out a chuckle. This was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. Perhaps his plan was beginning to fall into place.

"I don't know. It's some sort of sham of Tony's," Natasha said.

"Do you think all the doors are locked?" Clint asked.

"I don't know. I don't have the patience to try. Three and a half hours in a crowded city and sifting through a Batman shop with a fat sweaty guy breathing down your neck really tries your patience."

Clint sudden seemed very irritable, and on the brink of angry. "That guy was creeping me out. He was getting a little _too _close – the shop wasn't even _that _crowded. I –" Clint suddenly pursed his lips and said nothing. It made Tony wonder what exactly happened with the fat guy in the Batman shop.

Natasha looked at Clint. "Can we just go and watch a movie or something?"

Clint perked up. "Can it be Batman?"

Natasha sighed. "Yes, we can watch Batman."

A glimmer of happiness sparkled in Clint's eyes. "Yes! Do you want me to get some blankets or something from my room?"

"That would be nice."

Clint grinned with utter joy. The man could have mood swings like a teenage girl. Tony watched as he made his way to his room, off to get some blankets.

Natasha shook her head, smiling, and walked to one of the living rooms, clutching her arms as she went.

Tony, however, just sat back looking smug. He knew that the Hawk currently had an inconvenient lack of blankets or really anything cozy in his room. He knew that there was just one blanket. And only one. Tony himself had in fact, earlier that day in a potential suicide mission, gone into the Hawk's room and removed all blankets but one. He'd even stripped his bed and left a "J.A.R.V.I.S.-written" note about ever-so-graciously doing his laundry for him that day, and sorry if it caused any inconvience.

He attempted to switch the camera to look at Clint to see his reaction at this, but then remembered that there were no cameras installed in anyone's room because they had all insisted on this thing called "privacy." He shouldn't have listened to them.

Reluctantly, he switched to view the living room, seeing Natasha sitting on one of the many couches, knees tucked up to her chest. In just that moment, Natasha looked so vulnerable, so innocent, and maybe even a little like a child. It was just…so unlike Natasha.

The moment was ended when Clint entered the room, carrying the one blanket, with a sheepish look on his face. Natasha raised her eyebrow.

"Um…turns out I only had one blanket in my room, so…we're gonna have to share, I guess?" Clint was already apologetic.

"I thought you had more than one."

"I guess not."

"Your sheets?"

"Apparently J.A.R.V.I.S. was doing laundry today and apologized for any inconvenience."

Natasha sighed. "I guess we can do with just one."

Excitement spurred in Tony's gut. This was exactly what he'd been planning for. A little coziness, some snuggle time…the Clintasha ship was bound to set sail at any moment.

…Tony had been in the media for too long.

Clint, with probably a little bit more enthusiasm than intended, sat down next to Natasha and threw the blanket over the two of them. Still cold, Natasha cozied up against Clint, trying to conserve body heat.

Tony could see that the man looked like he was in a state of bliss. He couldn't stop smiling, his face was approaching a deep red hue, and he could see his arm already inching closer and closer.

Then he had a sudden realization. "Damn it. Uh…Nat?"

"You forgot to put in the movie, didn't you?"

"Um…yeah."

This tipped Tony over the breaking point. He burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Only when a man was fully and deeply in love would he forgot the reason why he'd gone into a room and needed that blanket in the first place. When Tony was completely recovered from his fit, he tuned back into what they were doing.

Clint had put in the movie, and it was beginning to play. The couple was all snuggled up under the blanket again. However, Tony didn't think it was enough. He had to give them a little extra help.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., turn off the lights in the room where Clint and Natasha are, please."

"Right away, Sir."

Immediately the lights went off in that room, and Clint and Natasha seemed startled, but unfazed.

"Alright…now turn on those little candle lights in the corners of the room."

Tiny lights flickered to life on screen, giving a warm glow to the edges of the screen. Tony could see Natasha getting suspicious.

"And now…I think we're good." If they were doing anything but watching a movie, he would have requested romantic music be played.

"What now, Sir?" J.A.R.V.I.S. asked him.

"Now we sit back and wait for nature to take its course," Tony replied. "And please bring me a hot chocolate. It's still cold. Damn you, Bruce."

* * *

Tony was going crazy. The movie had been going on for an hour and a half, and_nothing had happened_. The closest thing that happened that came close to a move was Clint inching his arm on the top of the couch around Natasha, but then drew back and pretended to scratch his nose. It was pathetic. Tony was having trouble containing it. He had consumed three beers, a couple shots of tequila, two Sprites and God-knows-how-many mugs of hot chocolate in his anxiety and desperation, and he didn't know what to do. He just felt like he had to _do _something. If he didn't get this couple together he was either going to go crazy, or die trying.

He looked at the screen again, just to make sure nothing had happened. All he could see was Natasha's head on Clint's shoulder, which was a step in the right direction, but it wasn't fast enough. Drunk-and-sugar-high Tony needed action, and he needed it now.

He rose from his chair, which he'd been sitting in for a number of hours, and tried to bolt to the door, but only managed to trip on his empty soup bowl, which he'd forgotten had been lying abandoned on the floor.

He hit the ground with a _thunk_, hard on his head. It probably didn't help his sanity level, but suddenly he had a great idea. It seemed crazy, but it made perfect sense to him. Why didn't he think of this earlier? He had to get started on this plan right away!

He hoped he wouldn't regret this plan later.

* * *

Crawling through the air ducts, which were even colder than the rooms below, Tony felt even more excited about his plan. Crazy as it was, he knew it was going to work somehow.

He wondered how Clint did it all the time. The air ducts weren't exactly the easiest place to move through. But then again, Clint didn't usually wear a complete Batman suit while he was doing so.

Opening the air ducts had been easier than sealing them. He just had to say the word to J.A.R.V.I.S., who opened them. Tony wasn't worried about Clint trying to make his escape anymore.

When he heard the soft rumble of action movie noises, he knew he was above the right spot. He looked down, and sure enough, there they were, all snuggled up on a couch, looking like high school sweethearts on a lazySaturday night. They were about to get quite the surprise.

With a substantial amount of wiggling and shuffling, Tony managed to get his feet under him, on top of the vent. And with one good kick, the vent was no longer under him and he was descending into the room, shouting as he went:

"NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA _BATMAN!_"

He had prepared some whole big spiel about he, Batman, forcing Clint and Natasha to admit their love, but before he hit the floor, he felt something prick his face. Then the world faded and blurred out, and he saw only black.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: I told you the next chapter would be soon! See, I'm not a liar.  
Just a quick reminder: PLEASE take a poll on my profile page, and PLEASE check out my other stories! They don't get NEARLY as many views as this!  
Speaking of views...Iron Man Knows All currently has FIFTY-ONE THOUSAND HITS! HOLY CRAP! Thank you guys so, so, so, so, SO much for all your support! I would have NEVER gotten this far without you guys!  
But now, I have a challenge for you (besides reading my other stories): I want all of you - every SINGLE one of you reading this - to submit a review. I don't care how long, but please, I LIVE off reviews, and they make me write faster! If you want more chapters, I suggest you review! (And maybe recommend to your friends? :D)  
Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!  
P.S. - anyone who gets the Up reference gets Awesome Points! (Yes, I'm keeping a tally)  
Love always,  
~PJA**

* * *

Chapter 14

He woke up by a hard slap to the face.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"Hey, at least nobody kissed you," Steve defended.

Tony groaned and closed his eyes. Steve and Bruce, who were hovering over him, changed their position to a kneeling one.

"Tony, can you tell us what happened?" Bruce asked. "We came down here at eleven PM and we found you passed out on the floor with a dart in your cheek. In a Batman suit."

"Well, it was all part of this elaborate scheme to get Clint and Natasha to admit their love. I, Batman, would drop in through the vent, and command Clint and Natasha to admit their love. But before I got to say anything, I guess I got tranquillized."

"Probably by Natasha," Steve added.

"Tony, exactly how drunk were you when you thought this plan was a good one?" Bruce asked him.

"I was _completely _sober!" Tony exclaimed, sitting up. "Right, J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Sir, you ingested three beers, two shots of tequila, two Sprites, and six mugs of hot chocolate," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

Bruce gave Tony a look of shame and _I knew it. _"Tony, I think you need to rest," Bruce suggested. "Your mind is still not at its top shape, and you keep trying to do the world's craziest things. It's eleven-thirty. Go to sleep."

"But I _can't _go to sleep, Bruce!" Tony wailed. "In thirty minutes it'll be July twentieth, which means I only have _eight days _until the deadline! I can't give up, Bruce! This _needs to work!_"

Bruce sighed. "Things will be better in the morning," he consoled, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You need a good night's rest, and then you'll think better in the morning. It's not like something's magically gonna happen that'll make them fall in love."

Tony's eyes widened. "No, Bruce. That's _exactly _what's gonna happen."

Bruce became worried and concerned. "What do you mean?"

Tony jumped to his feet. "I need to make a magic potion." He bolted to his lab, stumbling along the way.

Steve looked at Bruce. "I'm surprised he didn't notice we turned the heat up."

"When the man's crazy and determined, nothing can distract him."

* * *

It was two in the morning, and Clint couldn't sleep. He simply stared at the dull gray ceiling, clutching a framed photograph. He sighed. He couldn't stop thinking…about Natasha. He knew it sounded cheesy and childish, but sometimes it was okay to be a child.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. Not just her body, as many shallow, thick, stupid men did, but _all _of her. Clint knew he didn't deserve someone like Natasha. She was smart, quick, clever, beautiful, and could beat him to a pulp if she wanted to. And for some reason, she'd decided to let him in. He was able to see a side to Natasha that no one else was able to see. She told him her secrets, her fears, and sometimes even her feelings. Clint didn't know exactly what he'd done to earn her trust, but he was damn glad she did trust him. And for that, Clint had decided to trust her. And that level of trust made them unstoppable and inseparable partners, both on and off the field.

And that, of course, was how Clint came to love her. From the moment they'd met, there was something. And Clint, after about three days of reluctantly digging through his brain, had unveiled the truth. And ever since then, Clint had been trying his hardest to deal with it. He didn't want to make a move without knowing if Natasha felt the same way. Over the years, he'd had some hints, but nothing definite enough to make Clint comfortable with making of move. He'd danced close to it, closer than he should have dared, but Natasha hadn't seemed to care and hadn't made any protests, so he kept coming closer and closer. But he kept just enough distance. He didn't want to lose what he'd built up with Natasha.

He eagerly awaited the day when he'd break out of this awkward place.

Clint sighed. He'd had yet to feel Natasha's lips upon his, to hold her tight as more than a friend. Tony made snide comments to him all the time about them being in love – if only he knew the whole story.

Clint sighed and rolled over. He lifted the picture he had clutched in his fingers – it was a photo of him and Natasha that Phil had secretly snapped one day who knows how long ago. It showed Clint clutching Natasha's hand (after a mission, calm down) and looking deep into her eyes. Clint loved this picture. He kept it a secret; hidden. It was one of the only things he kept from Natasha. The picture reminded him of what could have been. And what, hopefully, could be. It gave him hope.

He placed it on his bedside table, and he flipped the other way. He sighed. There probably wouldn't be much sleeping in this room tonight.

* * *

Bubbling, burning and giving off a terrible stench, Tony was hard at work brewing up a concoction in his lab. Truthfully, he'd never tried to make any sort of potion before, so this would be the world's most intense trial and error. Ever since he'd recovered from his knock-out, he'd been locked up down here, focusing on nothing but finishing his project.

The brew spat fizzing juice at his face, which he was only narrowly able to avoid. When it hit the ground, it began to eat through the floor. Tony stared at it for a moment.

"Perhaps I should fix that."

The beaker of green, fizzing acid in front of him stared at him menacingly. It was challenging him, as if it was saying, "What'cha gonna do? Huh? Huh? _Huh?_" Tony didn't like things that were as arrogant as he was.

He got to work wrangling the notorious brew. Tony almost lost his hand a couple times in the process. He dramatically tossed in pinches of powder, squeezed in liquids from bottles of who-knows-what, and embellished the mixture with clumps of whatever base-type thing he had lying around. Not to mention all the food coloring added.

And finally, after hours of hard work, sweat on his brow, and mental trauma, the potion was done. Tony picked up the beaker and examined it at eye-level.

"Huh. For a love potion, you wouldn't expect it to be that hard to make. And for it to fight back."

Suddenly, all at once, he felt proud and excited of his work. This happened every time he finished a project – all the excitement came at the end, after all the work. He was buzzing with energy, itching to tell someone of his achievement before he set out to use it.

"BRUCE! LOOK AT WHAT I DID!"

Knowing that Bruce couldn't hear him, he jammed a lid on the beaker (why yes, he had beaker lids – he was Tony Stark) and ran out of his room and into the main living room. Sure enough, Bruce was in there, a book in his hand and a cup of tea on the table in front of him. Steve was also in there, preparing something in the kitchen.

"BRUCE!" Tony shouted, catching the other scientist's attention. "Look what I made!"

Bruce looked at the beaker and became confused. "What the hell is that?"

Tony grinned. "Take a guess."

"Well…it's thick, pink, and it smells like roses and Valentine's Day…is it a tonic to get over your hangovers?"

"No! Steve, do you have a guess?"

Steve brought his snack of toaster strudels (which would greatly offend Thor) into the room and contemplated for a moment. "Is it…no, it can't be."

"Tell me. No answer is stupid."

"Does it tone down your ego?"

"_No_, Bruce!"

Steve reluctantly gave his answer. "It…it's not a…love potion, is it?"

"_Ding ding ding! _Correct! This is, in fact, a love potion. How did you know."

"Well, it's pink…and smells like roses…"

"True, true."

"Tony," Bruce said, a warning tone in his voice. "What exactly do you plan to do with this love potion?"

Tony grinned. "I'm glad you asked, Brucie. Gather round, children, gather round. Uncle Tony is going to tell a story."

They didn't move, considering that they were already sitting on the couch closest to him.

"I plan to…discreetly use this love potion to make Clint and Natasha admit that they love each other."

Bruce and Steve gave each other a skeptical and concerned look.

"Tony…have you ever made a love potion before?" Bruce asked.

"No. No I have not."

"Do you know how it's _supposed _to work?" Steve asked.

"Well, I'm going to either slip it into their drinks or just give it to them straight-out, and they should fall in love with the first person they see, and that should be each other."

"So you don't really know what's going to happen, or if there are going to be any side effects." Bruce stated.

"No. No I do not."

Bruce sighed. "Tony, this is _not _a good idea. What if that potion is lethal and _killed _Clint and Natasha?"

"It's not lethal! It only ate through the floor once."

"_What?!_"

"Don't worry, I fixed it. And now, I have to put it to good use. Toodle-oo!"

Tony bolted.

"STARK!"

The pounding of two sets of feet sounded behind him. Tony kept running, knowing that he'd die if he stopped. Clutching the beaker, he didn't stop until he'd made it down to where he knew Clint and Natasha. His pursuers had caught up with him, but they were forced to slow to a stop, as they didn't want to attract any more attention to Tony than he already had.

"Why, hell-_o_, Clint and Natasha."

The addressed two turned their heads to Stark from their perches at the small table in the room. The plate of cheese and crackers between them remained untouched.

Natasha raised her eyebrow. "What do you want, Stark?"

"Oh, I just wanted to offer you a drink."

Bruce and Steve, lingering beyond the doorway, exchanged a concerned look.

"Is that what you've got in your hands?" Clint asked.

Tony looked at what he was clutching. "Why, yes. Yes it is."

"Why is it in a beaker?"

"It was the most conveniently placed container for me to grab when I was making it."

"What is said drink?" Natasha asked, skeptical.

"It's…fruit punch. It needs to be added into another drink to get the maximum taste out of it."

"What sort of fruit punch needs to be added to another drink?"

"Well, I _guess_ you can have it by itself."

"Please."

So Tony meandered into the connecting kitchenette and got out two glasses. She popped off the lid to the beaker, letting the stench permeate the air.

"Do you smell roses, Tasha?" Clint asked.

"A little…"

Tony tipped the beaker, letting the smooth, thick liquid pour into the glass. He repeated the process with the second glass. He exchanged the beaker for the glasses, brought them into the connecting room, and set them down in front of Clint and Natasha. That was when Bruce and Steve entered the room.

"Hey, Bruce. Hey, Steve," Clint greeted. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, I have to show Steve this book," Bruce held up a book featuring the sights of Paris, which he must have been smart enough to grab from his room on the way over. "He wants to see what modern Paris looks like."

"Okay then."

Tony cursed in his head when the two men sat down on the couch and pretended to look at the book. They simply just wanted to see how badly Tony would fail. Curse them.

"Well, enjoy," Tony said, stepping back from the table. The two assassins looked at each other, willing one another to take a drink. Clint gave in first.

The archer picked up his glass, seemingly not sure if it was safe or not. He took a whiff.

"Geez, Tony, this smells like the perfume department on Valentine's Day. What the heck is in this?"

"Just fruit punch, I told you."

Clint gave Natasha a look. She nodded.

"Hey, Tony, is that a squirrel?"

He jerked his head to the opposite wall. "Squirrel?! Where?!"

Immediately Natasha pounced on him from behind, knocking him to the ground. She straddled his back, keeping him pinned. Bruce and Steve watched in horror and amusement.

"Clint!" she commanded. He handed her a glass.

Natasha wrenched open Tony's jaw and forced the cup to his lips. She tipped it and his head back, the pink liquid oozing into his mouth and seeping down his throat. Tony choked and gagged, but Natasha snapped his mouth shut and he was forced to swallow.

She got off his back, but he didn't get up. He writhed, wriggled and trembled, which scared Bruce and Steve more than Natasha pouncing on him. The assassins seemed unphased.

He jerked on the floor. Tony himself couldn't describe what he was feeling, had he been able to speak at the time. His brain was bouncing around in his skull, his insides were tingling, and when it was all done, he could see nothing but black.

* * *

**A/N: Hey! Hey you! Yes, _you! _See that review button right down there? You should click on it!**


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Guys, you don't know how sorry I am for making you wait so darn long. I feel incredibly guilty and I'm not going to make excuses, I'm just going to deliver you your chapter. By the way, it's shorter than I originally intended, since I decided to split the contents and make another chapter out of the other half and give this to you now. Enjoy! And PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU! I'm making it a personal challenge!  
Love and hugs!  
~PJA**

Chapter 15

The world came in with a blur. A soft, sweet, angelic voice was calling out to him.

"Tony? Are you okay?"

The voice of honey slid through his ears like silk. His eyes fluttered open.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Steve." Tony sighed. "Steve. That's just a_ beautiful_ name."

Steve's eyes shot wide open in horror. "Uh…Tony, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, now that you're here."

Clint failed at trying to hold in his laughter. He burst out into that sort of laughter that you can't stop, clutching at his stomach and eventually falling out of his chair. But instead of giving him a judgmental look like she normally did, the laughter infected Natasha and she was thrown into a fit of giggles herself. Only Bruce was saved from the infection, though the smile on his face was of a size that hadn't been there for years.

Steve looked to Bruce in a panic. "Bruce, what the hell is going on?"

"Well, you decided it would be a great idea to be the first person Tony saw when he woke up," Bruce said, fighting to keep a somewhat straight face. "So now the genius is in love with you."

That was when he lost it. His shoulders shook with laughter, but he kept it in, because he knew Steve was going to flip out.

"What? This is madness!" Steve cried, indeed going into a panic.

"Madness?" Tony asked, sitting up. "It's meant to be!

"Bruce! Help me! What do I do?" Steve asked, his voice rising half an octave.

Bruce shrugged. "I dunno. My idea was to just let Tony wake up and look in a mirror, but oh no, Cap couldn't allow that to happen..."

"_Bruce_!"

"Alright, alright." Bruce was still grinning. "I think I can figure out something in my lab. I just need peace, quiet, and solitude. Just hang tight here for a while."

"What? Bruce? No, you can't do that!"

"What's wrong, babe?" Tony asked, confused. "Why are you upset?" He stood up and put his hands on Steve's hips.

Alarmed, Steve smacked Tony's hands away. He brought them right back.

Bruce let a chuckle escape. "Well, I'll be heading to my lab now. I think I need to give you two a little more privacy." Bruce slipped from the room.

"Bruce! Don't leave me!" Steve shouted, still trying to fend off the returning hands.

"You don't need him," Tony purred. Steve looked into his eyes, which were filled with longing and hunger. "Everything you need is right here." He gave a little hip jiggle.

It was all Steve could do not to puke. He tried to leave Tony's grip, but nervous tension and panic caused all superhuman strength to leave his body. He was caught.

"Uh...Tony?"

"Shh." Tony pressed a finger to Steve's lips. "Not a word." He moved both hands to Steve's shoulders. "We can't ruin the moment."

He closed his eyes leaned his head in slowly, going for the smooch. Steve's eyes widened in panic. Running in his mind was, _Holy shoot. I am about to be kissed by Tony Stark. This_ cannot_ be happening_.

Luckily for Steve, he escaped at the last second. He ducked his head out of the way, Tony's lips meeting air. Cap wriggled out of Tony's grip, diving behind the couch and hoping Tony didn't see him escape there.

Tony, amused, chuckled. "Playing hard to get, Cappie? I see how it is. That's just how I like 'em."

Steve shuddered, for he heard a_ purr_ and a _meow_ leave Tony's mouth.

"I'm coming to find you, Stevie."

Steve panicked. He did _not_ want to get stuck like that again. He searched for another place to hide. As Tony came around the side of the couch, Steve crawled around the other side, and then dove behind a chair. Panting, he snuck a peek of the room.

Tony was still looking. "You can't hide forever, Stevie!" He turned to look elsewhere, but as Steve prepared to move, Tony spotted him. "There you are!" Steve yelped. He tried to run, but Tony was on his tail. Tony tackled him, and they somehow ended up on the loveseat. _How ironic_, Steve thought.

Tony had Steve straddled by the hips.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted?" he whispered in Steve's ear, that voice tingling his skin. "To have your own personal moment with _me_, Tony Stark?" Caressing Steve's cheek with his fingertips, Tony went in.

"_No_." Steve grabbed Tony's wrist and held it in an iron grip, his strength returned. "Tony, I need you to_ get the hell off me_."

Tony seemed distressed. "But..._why_, Steve? We have something special!"

"Maybe in your own little world, but that world is so screwed up; I don't want to go there." He looked Tony straight in the eye. "_I don't love you._"

Tony looked heartbroken. "But...Steve...I love you...what did I do wrong?"

"You oh-so-stupidly drank the love potion you made."

"_Pfft_. Steve, I would never do something like _that_."

"Obviously you are also suffering from amnesia."

"I am suffering from nothing except heartbreak." A tear, probably fake, trailed down his cheek. "However, since I still have you pinned down...I have nothing to lose."

It took a second to register in Steve's mind. "Huh?"

In a flash, Tony swooped in and kissed Steve smack on the lips. Steve opened his eyes wide and was too stunned to push him away. Tony went all out; it wasn't a peck. In the British terms, he began to snog him, enjoying the sweet taste of Steve's lips all too much.

Eventually, Steve came to his senses and pushed Tony off of him. He fell to the ground and hit his head; hard. He didn't get up.

"What are you, crazy?" Steve shouted at him, even though he was out cold. He had never been more embarrassed in his life. He hoped nobody else would ever ever ever know about this.

"Well, that we know he is. There's no question about that."

Steve whipped his head around to the source of the voice and found Clint and Natasha still sitting at the table nearby. His eyes nearly boggled out of his head.

"Have you guys been sitting here this whole time?" he seethed.

"Uh,_ yeah_," Clint responded.

"_Then why didn't you do anything to stop it_?"

"Because it was hilarious."

"And romantic," Natasha added.

"_Romantic_?" Steve was stunned.

"He was coming on to you in quite a strong and romantic way. It was hilarious."

Steve fumed. He couldn't believe these two sat here that whole time and did _nothing_. What kind of friends were they?

It was then that Bruce decided it would be a great idea to come back in the room. "I've got it. Just a little thing, but it should do the trick...what happened in here?"

Clint grinned. "Something magical." Bruce raised his eyebrow.

"Tony started making out with me!"

"Seriously?"

"Would I lie about that?"

"Darn, I can't believe I missed it."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Nothing, nothing. Now, I've got the antidote-thing. Wake him up."

Steve sighed. Reluctantly, he crouched over Tony's unconscious body and shook him awake, terrified of what might happen when he came to.

All that did happen was that he groaned and sat up. "I think I must be really drunk. What just happened? Why are you looking at me like that, Steve?"

Bruce threw his hands in the air in defeat. "Or you can just knock him out. That works too."

"Would anyone like to enlighten me on what just happened?"

"_No_." Steve refused to acknowledge this event.

"I'll be glad to -"

"Shut up, Clint."

"But I just -"

"_No_."

* * *

Relaxed and in his zen mode after a few hours and with a nice cup of tea delicately brewed by Bruce, Steve sat on the couch, choosing to forget the events of earlier today. In the minds of all of them, it never happened. If someone mentioned a love potion, their answer was_ hangover_ or _amnesia_. For everyone's sake, it was better to forget.

"Uh...Steve?"

Uh-oh. This couldn't be good.

"What is it, Bruce?"

"Tony and I were on the internet...and we found something. We think you need to see it. _Now_."


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been forever since I've updated and I'm truly sorry. It just happens. However, school's out, so I'll be able to update more! Yay! Take this, for instance. I chugged this chapter out entirely in a couple hours. I feel so proud of myself!  
I have no idea how long it'll take me to update this story or any of my others, so don't count on it soon. And don't expect any new stories quite yet.  
So make sure to tell me what you think! I want EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU who's reviewed my last few chapters to review this one.  
Oh, stat updates. Currently this story has 72,000 hits, 333 followers, 324 reviews and 196 favorites. HOLY FREAKING CRAP. DO YOU SEE HOW BIG THOSE NUMBERS ARE? OH MY GOD! Thank you guys so so so so so much for all the support! This probably wouldn't be here without you.  
SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! Love you!  
~PJA**

**RECAP OF LAST CHAPTER: Tony drank the love potion he made for Clint and Natasha, and then blacked out. He then woke up to Steve's face, therefore falling in love with him. Bruce left to make an antidote, while Tony tried to make a move on Steve, chasing him around and eventually kissing him. Steve knocked him out, and then he was returned to his original state. Later, Steve was relaxing, but then was approached by Bruce, who told him there was something on the internet he needed to see NOW.**

Chapter 16

Despite being completely out of his time, Steve did know a few things about the modern world. For example, anything on the internet is bad or untrustworthy. And anytime your friends tell you there's something on the internet you need to see _now, _then it's something _bad_.

"Oh God. What is it?" Steve asked, dreading the answer.

Bruce hesitated. "I think it would be better if you just see it." Well _that _definitely wasn't good. "Tony, could you bring up the video, please?"

Steve's level of horror rose to a peak. He knew if there was one dangerous site, it was YouTube. Anything and everything was on YouTube. The only more dangerous place he could think of was Tumblr. But God knows what was on YouTube that he needed to see.

Tony gave him a look before he pressed play. "You might wanna...prepare yourself."

He took a deep breath. "Just play it."

He wished he hadn't said that. The video began to play, and on the screen he saw himself, getting chased by a lovesick Tony. His eyes boggled out of his head. Oh dear lord. How did this manage to get on the internet? He watched in horror as the video played on, and he witnessed himself almost getting kissed by Tony, hiding behind couches from Tony, and then getting tackled by Tony. And then, in the climax of it all, he was kissed by Tony. Here the video zoomed in, so the audience could get a better look at the super-smooch. However, the video ended before they could see Steve throw Tony off him.

Steve was simply horrified. How could this be? How could someone be so cruel? He couldn't have people seeing that. He simply couldn't.

"I know it's a bombshell, Capsicle," Tony said, patting him on the shoulder. "But it'll be alright."

"How many views has that video had?" Steve asked, finally finding the strength to speak.

"Um...only about five million."

"_Million?_"

"What can I say? I guess this guy has a lot of subscribers."

"Who the hell even posted this?"

"Well..." Bruce began, looking for the author. "Looks like someone named HawkMan06."

"Barton," Steve spat with a dash of poison. "He'll pay."

"It's likely that the assassins were co-conspirators in this. They both need to pay," Tony stated.

Steve grinned. "And I know exactly how to do it." He looked at Tony. "And you're gonna help me."

Tony, too, grinned. "Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure."

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Cap?"

"Yes, Tony, it'll be fine. Don't you want revenge on Clint and Natasha just as much as I do?"

"...Yes."

"See, it's perfectly fine. Now go out and do your job."

"...Fine. But I'm still not one-hundred percent sure on this."

"Just go."

As Tony left, little did he know that this revenge on Clint and Natasha was also Steve's personal revenge on him.

* * *

"How many views on that now?" Natasha asked Clint, casually taking a sip from her mug as she did so.

"About five million." Clint simply grinned. He held out his mug. "Here's to revenge and backfiring."

Natasha clinked her mug to his. "And to Stark dying an ever-so-painful death someday."

In sync, they sipped from their respective mugs, Clint somehow managing to get a red moustache from his Hawaiian punch.

"Um...Clint?"

"Yes, Tasha?"

"You have a moustache..."

"You mean I've finally hit puberty? Hallelujah!"

"Ha-ha. You're funny, smart-ass. I mean, you have a _punch _moustache."

"_Ooohhhh_. Well, that's what happens when you drink Hawaiian punch."

"You're such a child."

"Am not!"

"Yes, you are."

"I'll prove it to you. Drink some Hawaiian punch, you'll see it's not a kid's drink."

"Um, I'd prefer not."

"Come on, Nat."

"No."

"Come _on_."

"Clint, get the mug out of my face."

"But it's delicious and nutritious!"

"The same day chocolate cake is."

"Please, Nat?"

"No, Clint."

"Fine. I didn't want to have to do this..."

"Clint, what're you - no, stop that tickles!"

"Drink the punch!"

"No, I -" she could barely speak between laughs. "Stop!"

Clint stopped talking; he simply smiled and continued to tickle her. Her laughs were loud and uncontrolled, her muscles spazzing and threatening to kick Clint in the gut. Both were secretly enjoying it.

But suddenly, their tickle-time was cut short. "Hey, Clint! Natasha!" Clint immediately withdrew from Natasha, who began to take deep breaths to recover.

"What do you want, Stark?" Clint asked. "And why are you dressed like Smokey the Bear?"

"Because...we're going on a camping road trip!" Tony exclaimed, lifting his bear paws high.

This just confused both the assassins. "Huh?" Natasha asked.

"I've decided that we need to have some Avengers bonding time, and what better way to do that than on a camping trip?"

Clint raised a finger, about to protest, but Tony cut him off.

"So we're going on a camping trip! Tonight. Pack a bag for yourself, then meet me in the garage at seven. Don't worry, I'll take care of the rest. And remember," he pointed a furry finger at them and tipped his hat. "_Only YOU can prevent forest fires_."

"Stark, you look ridiculous," Natasha said.

"Like a child," Clint added.

"Coming from the man with a Hawaiian punch moustache."

"Touche."

"Hey! Stop flirting and go pack!" Tony shouted. "Smokey the Bear, over and out!" He clumsily turned around and entered the elevator, standing there awkwardly until it closed.

"A dare, perhaps?" Natasha asked.

"Oh, most likely."

"Are we actually going to do this?"

"Why not? It's been forever since we've been. And besides, what's more fun than a night alone in the woods?" Clint smiled mischievously and raised his eyebrows playfully.

Natasha rolled her eyes and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. A smile, one that she tried to conceal, crept onto her face. "Slow down, big fella. Tony's gonna be there."

"Ugh. Forgot about that."

"Now go pack. And don't forget marshmallows."

"Of course not. You know I love s'mores."

Clint stood up, gave Natasha's shoulder a light squeeze, then departed to his room.

When Natasha made sure he was gone, she picked up Clint's mug and stared down the red liquid inside. Darting her eyes back in forth to make sure he was alone, she took a sip. Then she drained the rest of the mug until all that remained were tiny red droplets trailing the rim and insides.

Clint was right. Hawaiian punch was truly better than tea. And not childish; nope, definitely not.

And now they had matching red moustaches.

* * *

Cap and Tony were waiting in the garage, leaning against the back of one of Tony's cars, which was loaded with their personal and camping gear, along with the tents. Tony checked his watch. _6:57_. Almost seven. Where were the lovebirds?

"Was Bruce coming, or no?" Steve asked Tony.

"Nah, he said he'd stay here. Watch over the house, enjoy some peace and quiet so he can get some work done in the lab," Tony responded. "I told him that we're only going for one night. It's not like he's gonna get a Nobel Prize while we're gone."

"Well, you never know with him."

"Hey, look I see them!" Tony exclaimed. And sure enough, the lovebirds themselves were heading toward them from the other end of the vast garage, hauling their stuff over their shoulders.

Tony grinned. They had no idea of what was coming to them. The tents were small, personal-sized, but he'd purposely brought one less tent than people. It would force them to share a tent. And then, in the middle of the night, he would steal their blankets from their tent. Despite it being the middle of July, it still got cold at night. _Very _cold. You can infer what would happen then. Steve had approved of Tony's plan, but had requested one more thing. So Tony had also packed a night-vision camera to snap a picture and post on the internet, preferably on things like Tumblr and Instagram and Twitter. He knew it was a quintuple-suicide mission, but it would be worth it for sweet revenge, and Clintasha shipping.

Yes, Clintasha. He decided he liked it better than Blackhawk, now.

"Are we late?" Clint asked as he approached the car and tossed his bag into the trunk.

Tony looked at his watch. "Nope, you're right on time. That's kinda scary."

Clint chuckled to himself, then grabbed Natasha's bag and tossed it in. "Alright, are we ready to go?"

Steve nodded. "Hop in. I know a great camping place."

"Wait wait wait. Are you _driving_?" Tony became concerned.

"Um, yes."

"My _baby_?"

"Calm down, Stark. I'll be gentle. I know what I'm doing."

Tony was still skeptical. "O-_kay_...but if there's _one scratch _on my baby, you die."

"Stark, you have about twenty cars."

"That doesn't mean I don't love all of them."

"Just get in the car."

So they piled in the car, Tony in the passenger seat and the assassins in the back. Tony drummed his fingers against the armrest, nervous for his baby.

Steve started the engine, feeling the rumble of the car beneath him. He still wasn't used to the smooth feel of the modern-day cars. Luckily for him, he'd had some practice driving these cars before. He pulled out of the garage and into the traffic of New York. If he was hoping for an easy trip, then his hopes were smothered. It was seven in the evening in New York City, and they were in possibly the most populated part of the city. It would take ten minutes just to get a few blocks. Getting out of the city would take forever.

He turned on the radio, hoping to lighten the mood the traffic had created, but he was horrified by the vulgar language of the songs on the radio. Such vile words penetrating his eardrums! He changed the channel, flipping through the stations until he found the classical music station. The tension left his body, and his shoulders relaxed. Now _this _was something you drove to.

Obviously Tony thought differently. "Ugh, why are we listening to this, Capsicle? It's so old and boring...it's putting me to sleep."

"Well, I'm the driver, and the radio is my choice."

"Well, it's _my _car, so my vote trumps all."

"Well, you're not Donald Trump. His tower is just down a few streets. Go pay him a visit," Clint retorted from the backseat.

"And stop arguing," Natasha finished.

Steve and Tony gave each other a look and made a silent agreement. They were getting their revenge tonight; no more arguing.

However, Tony didn't know what Steve's real plan was.

* * *

Soon, the Avengers were out of the main traffic and Steve was able to increase the speed until they were out of the city. They were on the highway, but on either side of the road was just about nothing. A bit of grass, water. Not much.

Tony was beginning to get skeptical. "Are you sure you know where you're going, Steve?"

"Yes, I am positive. It's been awhile, but I'm sure it's still there."

"Why's it so far away?"

"Do you see any trees in New York? It's not like we're camping in Central Park."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure that's legal."

After fifteen more minutes, Steve took an exit off the main highway. Quickly, there were less signs of inhabitants and more trees everywhere they went. Eventually there came a turn onto a gravel road, and from there the road eventually turned to dirt, and they were in the middle of a forest. Steve stopped the car and put it in park.

"Here we are," Steve announced. He opened the door and stepped out of the car. "Nice, clean, green nature."

Tony made a face. "How charming."

"Get out of the car. We'll set up camp."

He complied. Clint and Natasha also exited the vehicle, and the four of them began to unload all their gear. Soon they were left with a large pile of stuff.

"Looks pleasant," Tony commented.

"We have to set up camp first," Steve said.

"Did you camp often, back before you were Captain America?" Clint asked.

"I did, actually. I would go every so often with my best friend Bucky. It was tough to get out of the city, but it was worth it. We would set up camp, build a fire, roast hot dogs and marshmallows...good times." Steve got a nostalgic look in his eyes, so everyone decided to pick up the pace and not get on his nerves.

Clint hauled the tents over to where Steve had determined was "tent-worthy" ground, and began to unroll them.

Here's where Natasha began to raise her guard. Steve could see her mentally counting, and she furrowed her eyebrows. "Those tents are pretty small." She looked at Tony. "And there are only three of them."

Tony feigned ignorance. "What? Only three? I thought I packed four, dammit! Sorry, guys. Looks like someone's gonna have to share."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "How about you share with Steve?"

"Ma'am, would you like to be dead tomorrow morning?" Steve asked her.

"Not particularly."

"Then there's gonna have to be some other arrangement."

Natasha widened her eyes, realizing what was hidden between the lines. "Hey -"

"How about we talk about it after we're set up?" Steve quickly suggested. "It's gonna get dark soon enough, and we don't wanna work in the dark."

Natasha sighed. "Fine."

And they got to work. They approached where Clint was clumsily trying to set up a tent all by himself, and between the three of them, they managed to get all the tents up in record time.

Wait. Three...?

Steve found Tony sitting under a tree, looking at something on his phone. Steve put his hands on his hips. This was unacceptable camping behavior.

"Hey! Tony!" he shouted.

Tony looked up and waved. "Hi, Steve! Those tents look great!"

Steve marched over to Tony and swiped the phone from his hands.

"Hey! Steve! Why the hell did you do that?" Tony accused, acting like a little four-year-old.

"We're _camping_. That means no electronics. Got it?"

Tony pouted. "Fine." Then he made a motion as if to take something else out of his pocket.

"Ah-ah-ah," Steve said. "Give that to me, too." He beckoned with his fingers.

Tony sighed. "Fine." He placed the iPhone in Steve's hand.

"And everything else."

So Tony emptied his pockets and gave him the Galaxy S3, iPod, Nintendo DS, Stark Brand Phone, Blackberry, and pager.

"Empty?" Steve questioned.

Tony flipped his pockets inside out so the whites were showing.

"Good." He dumped Tony's pile of electronics in the passenger seat of the car, then turned to face the entire campsite. "Listen up!" All heads turned to him. "This is an electronic-free campout. I need you to give every electronic you have to me. Empty your pockets and your luggage, and give me everything on you. Don't worry, it'll stay safe in the car and it will be returned to you."

With mumbles and groans, the two assassins emptied their pockets, and then all three of them went to their bags, rummaged through, and handed all electronics to Steve.

"Thank you for your cooperation." He dumped all their stuff in the seat with Tony's other stuff. "Now, let's see how this campsite is coming along."

The rest of them were actually quite pleased to get Campmaster Steve's approval. The tents had been put up with expert-like precision, their bags had been carefully placed in front of them, awaiting the sleeping arrangement decision, the rest of the camp stuff was tucked in the back of a tent, and they had cleared a spot of ground for the campfire, and set up large logs as benches.

Steve was thoroughly impressed. "Well done. Have you guys ever been camping before."

"Nope," Tony stated simply.

"A couple times. I was born in Middle of Nowhere, America. Gotta do something with all that flat land," Clint said.

"Once," Natasha said. If Steve didn't know better, he'd have said he saw her steal a look at Clint.

"Alright, then." Steve looked at the sinking sun, quickly turning the sky pink and purple. "We need to gather firewood. It'll be dark soon, and we need to start a fire. You guys look farther away from camp for some big logs. I'll stay here and look for kindling."

They took his word, and split off in separate directions to look for firewood. However, Steve didn't look for firewood. He waited until the other three were out of sight, and then bolted to the tents. With lightning speed, he dismantled one of the tents and threw it, as it was, into the back of the car. He tossed his bag in behind it, and then ruffled through the others' bags just to make sure they truly didn't have any more electronics. Once he was satisfied with that, he stole Tony's keys from his bag, hopped in the car, revved the engine, stepped on the gas, and drove out of there.

His heart pounded. He felt guilty about leaving them, but that was the plan. And that was what Tony deserved. He did this to himself. Besides, he didn't leave them completely helpless. They had everything they needed to camp for the night, and Clint seemed perfectly capable in the woods. And he'd pick them up in the morning. If he felt like it.

He just hoped Stark got the message: never kiss him again. And for Clint and Natasha: never post a video of him on the internet again.

* * *

**A/N: Hey you! You there on the computer/smartphone! Click on the little review button and leave me a review! Tell me what you thought!**


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N: Wow has it really only been a week since I've updated! NEW RECORD! I _think_ that for the summer I'll be able to update somewhat weekly - but DO NOT COUNT ON IT! And also, I will try to get to the high school story soon, I promise. But for now, take the poll on my profile. And I want EVERYONE, every single one of you hundreds of followers, to write a review! Please! Tell me what you liked, and feel free to give some suggestions, as I'm always open!  
Thanks always,  
~PJA**

Chapter 17

"Hey, did you guys hear an engine?" Clint asked them, heading back to camp with an armful of wood. But then he realized something was terribly wrong. The camp was quiet. Too quiet.

When he saw that there were only two tents was when he began to panic. What had happened to the third one?

Then he noticed that the car was gone. His eyes opened wide in horror, and he dropped all the wood he was holding. He ran to the little dirt path, only confirming his fears.

"NATASHA! TONY!" Clint screamed. He heard hurried footsteps behind him, and within seconds Natasha and Tony were right at his back.

"Clint? What's wrong?" Natasha asked, concern and worry edging her voice.

Clint whipped around to face them. "Where is Steve?" Fear was apparent in his voice.

"Where's my car?" Tony asked, looking around for the first time. Panic arose in him. "And the other tent?"

Realization blossomed in Natasha. "He ditched us." She voiced everything Clint was thinking. "He left us, and took a tent with him."

"What?!" Tony asked in disbelief. "No, he wouldn't leave us! We had a pl-" he cut off, not wanting to voice it in front of Clint and Natasha. "Well, I'll just call for help-" he began patting his pockets, but his face paled when he realized they were empty.

"He took all the electronics, Stark," Natasha stated. "Damn, he had us fooled. And I even gave him _everything_! Clint?"

"Me too," he stated in despair.

"Shit." Tony started to get frantic. "Shit shit shit shit shit. What are we gonna do?" He paced in a circle. "I've never been stuck out in the woods before! I mean, sure, I was kidnapped by terrorists and brought to a cave in the Middle East, _but this is different_!"

"Calm down, Tony," Natasha soothed. "We'll be fine. Steve was kind enough to leave all the equipment we need. We can still have a nice campout. But we'll need to move fast; it'll be dark really soon."

Tony took deep breaths to calm down. "Okay. I'll be fine. But what if we're not?"

"Then I'll find a way to get us out of here."

"Okay." Tony hesitated. "There's still one less tent than people."

"Go build a freaking fire, Stark. Before I let a bear eat your face."

* * *

Steve pulled the car into the parking spot and killed the engine. He sat and breathed for a moment, calming his nerves. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. It was cruel. But it needed to be done. He had to get revenge on all three of them. Tony would be helpless in the woods without his precious electronics. And Clint and Natasha...well, let's just say he'd left the night-vision camera in one of the tents.

He methodically opened the car door and let himself out. He grabbed his personal gear, but left the electronics and other camping gear in the car. He saw no need to remove it now.

He got in the elevator, his bag slung over his shoulder, and rode it up to the main level, where he got out and immediately saw Bruce, who seemed surprised.

Bruce set down his cup of tea and book as he looked at the approaching Steve. "I didn't expect you back until tomorrow."

"Well, plans changed," Steve stated, tossing his bag onto one of the many couches in the room.

Bruce gave him a skeptical look. "Where are the others?"

Steve said nothing.

Bruce put his hands on his hips in amusement and accusement. "You left them, didn't you?"

Steve looked away as his cheeks flushed. "No..."

"You did, didn't you?"

"I had to!" Steve began to feel that this was turning to much like an interrogation, no matter how much Bruce looked amused. "It was the only way!"

"Only way to do what?"

Steve hesitated. "To get my revenge."

Now Bruce seemed to understand. "On Tony?"

"Yes."

Bruce smiled, and Steve visibly relaxed. "Any revenge on Tony is a good reason to do anything. But are you sure they'll be okay out there in the woods?"

"Yes, I left them everything they'd need. And Clint and Natasha have been through worse. I'm sure they can handle Tony and a campfire."

"I'm sure they can handle a campfire. Tony, however, I'm not so sure about."

"Good point. But I'll pick them up in the morning."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Sure, I guess."

Steve was glad he felt more at ease. He sunk into the couch, closing his eyes in contentment. He heard Bruce rattling around in the kitchen, and peeked open one eye. Bruce approached with two cups of tea and sat down next to Steve, placing one cup on the table in front of him and raising the other to his lips.

Smiling, Steve rose and took the cup, taking a long sip. "So, what did you do this evening?"

"Oh, just worked on a few things in the lab. It's great when there's no one here but JARVIS. At this rate I'll get a Nobel Prize."

"You truly are a funny man, Doctor."

He chuckled. "Do you wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Sure."

"Well, what do you wanna watch?" Bruce turned on the TV and looked at all of Tony's selections. "We've got Mission Impossible, Die Hard, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, some horror films, some cheesy chick flicks...any of them sound good to you?"

Steve hesitated and bit his lip. "Could we watch Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?"

Bruce gave him a look. "Um...sure? Why?"

"It's one of the few movies from my time that's still around."

Bruce took this as good enough reason. "Snow White it is, then. He clicked the button for Snow White and it began to play, a look of pure joy and contentment coming over Steve's face.

* * *

"Wait...so _what _am I supposed to do?" Tony asked in disbelief, holding a lopsided piece of wood in each hand.

"I've already told you," sighed Natasha, exasperated. "You need to start the fire. Put those pieces of wood onto the pile that Clint made, stick the fire starter in the middle, and then light it with a match."

Tony seemed hesitant. "...Okay. Are you sure this will work? I've never made a fire before and this seems a little sketchy."

"_Now_." Clint's patience was long gone. He was in for a tough night.

Tony faced the daunting heap of wood and let out a deep breath. "Okay, here goes." He placed his wood into the pile, then carefully got out the firestarter. "Is it supposed to be Vaseline and cotton balls?"

"Yes! Just hurry up!" Natasha shouted.

Tony stuck the Vaseline-and-cotton-balls mix into the fire, and then carefully got out the box of matches. Only a few times in his life had he handled matches. Most of the time he just used a blowtorch. He was afraid he'd light his fingers on fire.

"So...how exactly do I do this?" he asked.

"Swipe the red end of the match against the box. _Away _from you," Natasha added as an afterthought.

So Tony took a deep breath, gripped the match in his fingers, brought it to the side of the box, and swiped it down...

...it didn't light.

He looked to Natasha, who simply motioned to try it again.

It didn't light on the second try. Or the fifth. By that time, the match was useless, so Tony had to get out a new one. And, on the third try, the match finally lit. Tony almost dropped it in surprise, but he kept his grip. Slowly, he brought the flaming match to the globbed cotton ball...

...and it sputtered out.

This only served to make Tony angry. In fury, he managed to light the next match on the first try, but he failed to light the cotton ball.

Five matches later, he finally got the dastardly cotton to light, but it didn't catch any of the wood, and quickly went out. The firestarter was left useless.

Tony sat back in defeat. "This is impossible! How do people ever get fires to start without a gas fireplace?"

"Like this." Clint pushed Tony out of the way and squatted in front of the pile of wood, picking up two large gray rocks from the ground beside him.

Realizing what he planned to do, Tony laughed. "Do you really think that'll work, Barton? You know, there are things that _only _work in cartoons...if I couldn't make a fire with actual matches, what makes you think you can..."

He was instantly shut up when he saw Clint bring the two rocks together, creating a shower of sparks that caught on the wood, above and below. He brought his face close to the pile, blowing on the sparks until they grew to pieces of flame. Then those small flames combined into one big flame, and a fire was born.

Clint sat back in pride, and looked to Tony's wide-mouthed face. "How...? How in the world?" Tony sputtered.

"There's much about me you don't know, Tony," Clint said, his eyes wandering. "And you'll likely _never _know." He grabbed a stick resting by his knees. "But now," he began to grin, "we can roast marshmallows."

Tony seemed confused. "Marshmallows?"

"Yeah, marshmallows! It's a camping _thing_! How do you not know this? Did you not go camping as a kid?"

"Er...not really..." Tony looked sheepish and scratched the back of his head. "My dad wasn't much of a camping man...or a dad..."

Clint decided to drop the subject. "Natasha, could you go get the marshmallows?"

"On it."

Natasha went back and rummaged through one of the bags, returning with a jumbo bag of marshmallows. A large, child-like grin made an appearance on Clint's face. "Excellent. Now, everyone find your prime roasting sticks. The long, thick ones work the best."

Although Tony had trouble, he found a stick, and discovered he was actually excited for roasting marshmallows. It was one of those things he'd never gotten to do as a kid.

Trying to hide the obvious excitement on his face, he took the offered marshmallow from Natasha, who couldn't help but crack a smile. Tony settled on a log next to the now blazing fire, stuck his marshmallow on the end of the stick, and set it over the fire.

He wasn't sure about the mechanics of marshmallow roasting. He didn't know where to put it to get the speediest cooking time, didn't know how long it would take to get the perfect toast. From what he could see, it looked like the Hawk was cooking his rotisserie style, but he still couldn't pick out the prime spot in the fire.

So he stuck it right in the middle of the flame.

That was a big mistake.

It took about five seconds before Tony realized his marshmallow had caught on fire. This was a bad thing, because Tony did not particularly like burnt food. He yanked it out of the fire, his panic level rising when he saw the flaming marshmallow on the end of the stick.

"Oh my god!" shouted Tony. He looked to the other two, calmly roasting their marshmallows, his eyes wide in panic. "What do I do?"

"Blow out the fire and get a new marshmallow," Clint said with no hint of alarm in his voice, not even bothering to look at Tony.

Tony tried that tactic, but instead of blowing out the fire, he accidentally brought the marshmallow too close to him, and caught his shirt on fire.

Now Tony _really _panicked. He dropped the torch to the ground and fled. The flames licked up his shirt, inching toward his face, causing him to have no care where he ran, as long as he didn't faceplant into a tree.

However, he made pretty close calls, because he managed to set fire to a couple of trees. Soon, he was surrounded by a burning forest.

"Guys! _HELP ME!_" Tony screamed in true terror.

"Stop, drop, and roll!" Came Clint's voice to him.

So he proceeded to do just that. But, apparently, he had been taught the wrong process, because he just managed to set the grass on fire. And he was still burning.

"_Someone call 911!_" He kept on running.

Natasha set her stick down on the log, with Clint following suit.

"What does he think we can call on, a banana phone?" Clint muttered.

"Shut up, Clint. We have to put out the forest fire," Natasha countered.

"Smokey the Bear would be disappointed."

The two dove back into their bags, pulling out water bottles, water guns, and a fire extinguisher. With the speed of light, they emptied the water into the squirters until they were full to the brim. Clint tossed Natasha the fire extinguisher, and Natasha let Clint handle both the water guns. And on Natasha's nod, they began to put the fires out with speed and efficiency that would put every fire department to shame. Had Tony not been flailing about with a flaming shirt, he would have wondered what sort of missions they had been sent on in the past.

Time came to put Tony out, as he was the only thing left still burning. Clint set his water guns to the highest pressure, and made his way to Tony.

"_Clint!_" Tony shouted when he spotted him. "_Help meeeee_!"

"Oh, I'll help you, alright," Clint said. He aimed the guns and fired, hitting Tony with a stream of water that had the force of ten pressurized garden hoses on high. Tony was flung back, hitting the now sopping grass and bruising all parts of his body.

He groaned as he rose, his eyes locking on Clint. "What was that for?"

"To put the fire out," Clint responded with all the necessary smart-assness. "And it's out now, isn't it?"

Tony looked around. "Well, yeah..."

"Now shut up and go back to the fire. Thanks to you, this whole part of the forest is now charred, ashy and wet. Imagine what Smokey the Bear would think."

Tony said nothing, but gulped.

Clint brought his face in real close. "He would be _ashamed_," he said in his most menacing whisper-voice. He withdrew. "Now get up." He nudged Tony with the water gun. "And take the walk of shame back to the fire."

Tony hung his head and walked as Clint continued to keep the point of the gun on the small of Tony's back.

"That's not a Nerf gun, is it?" Tony asked.

Clint gave a laugh. "Do you really think I would carry around such an amateur weapon as a _Nerf gun_? No, young Padawan, even my water guns are top-notch."

Approaching the fire, Clint gave Tony one hard nudge, and he plopped back down in his seat. Everything was suddenly too quiet. All he could hear was the cackling and crackling of the fire. He looked around cautiously, and found Clint and Natasha, sitting next to each other and giving him the most judging of judging looks. Feeling uncomfortable, he shifted, and then reached for another marshmallow.

Natasha slapped his hand.

"Ow!" Tony flinched his hand back, rubbing the now-red spot. "What was that for?"

"You don't deserve another marshmallow," Natasha told him. "You just set fire to a forest. I don't think you should get another chance to repeat the trial. Now, go out into the woods. Find us some more firewood, and find a river or stream of some sort. We're low on water."

"How is that possible?" Tony asked.

"We used it all up putting out your fire." Natasha gestured to the vicinity. "Now go that way and do as I said." She pointed in the opposite direction.

"But, but, but..." Tony protested. "Do I have to?"

"Yes." She said simply.

"But I don't wanna." Tony pouted.

"Tony, you're going, or I will make your night the most unpleasant night you've had in countless ways." Natasha's eyes screamed murder, but Tony didn't move. "I'm going to count to three. One..."

Tony bolted.

Natasha sat back with a smile of satisfaction. "Well, that went well."

"I was starting to think he wouldn't actually leave," Clint commented.

"Even just two minutes without him around is worth it for me."

"Well, then let's make it count, shall we?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "Clint..."

Clint threw his hands up in innocence. "What? I - no! I didn't mean anything like that! What - what makes you think that?" Red bloomed from his neck and onto his ears and face. "Ooh! Guess what I brought?" Clint jumped up from the log, rummaged through his bag, and brought out an apple pie, which he presented like a five-star butler. "Pie, m'lady?" He asked.

Natasha smirked. "Clint, don't fill me up with too much fat."

"But, this is the finest homemade apple pie around! Made with apples handpicked from the best trees, and delicately made by yours truly. You wouldn't want all my hard efforts to go to waste, would you?" Clint asked.

She sighed. "No, I guess not." She snatched the pie from him, along with the knife he presented her.

"Guess what else I brought?" Clint asked, producing a huge boombox from behind him.

"How the heck did that fit in your bag?" Natasha asked, halfway through cutting herself a piece. "It's the size of a small child."

"My wonders are for me to know and you to find out," Clint grinned and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Natasha rolled her eyes and slipped a piece of pie onto a plate. "Just play some music, smart-ass."

Clint pressed the play button, and out of the boombox came some smooth, low, mellow jazz that helped to set a mood. One of those moods you see in the movies where the two kiss. Natasha raised her eyebrow at Clint, who grimaced and blushed red. "Uh, I didn't think that was what was in there...uh, I don't think I have anything different...um, do you want me to..."

"No," Natasha cut him off. "It's fine. And why don't you sit down? You don't have to keep standing."

A bit sheepishly, Clint sat down next to Natasha perhaps a bit closer than he needed to. He waited for her to say something to him; to ask him to move.

But she didn't. She simply turned to him and smiled. "This is delicious pie. Where'd you learn to bake like this?"

Clint smiled and let the tension drop from his shoulders. "As I said. It's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Well why can't I find out now?"

Clint was suddenly aware of how close their faces were. He tried his best to keep his breathing even and hide his blush in the dark. "Because it's not time yet," he said in a low whisper.

"Can we at least eat some more pie?" Natasha asked.

Clint chuckled. "You sounded a little bit like a child there."

"Well," Natasha said, helping herself to another piece of pie. "Sometimes it's okay to be a child."

And suddenly, without any warning, Natasha leaned on Clint, nudging her head into the crook of Clint's shoulder. Clint was glad Natasha couldn't see his face beet-red, though she could probably feel his heart beating twice as fast as it should have.

He just couldn't believe it. Natasha _voluntarily _cozying up to him. It...it was like a dream come true. And it was all her, too. No pressure. No force. No reason to lie. They both realized how vulnerable she was at a moment like this; saying these things. In a heart-filled moment of pure inner joy, Clint closed his eyes and sighed, trying to remember if he had put any alcohol in that pie.

.

* * *

Damn it. Why did it have to be dark? Tony didn't even realize it was dark until after he was out of sight of the campsite. Curse him for being terrified of Natasha.

He couldn't see anything save for an eerie glow from the moon. He could make out silhouettes of the trees, which looked really creepy in the moonlight. But there was no way he was accomplishing that goal of finding more wood, let alone finding a river or stream. He had to get back to camp.

But when he turned around, the scenery looked exactly the same as in the other direction. There were no identifying landmarks, no paths, and Tony hadn't been smart enough to leave bread crumbs or anything. Stupid stupid stupid.

He was beginning to panic. It was dark. And scary. Something could happen to him in the woods. He needed to get back _right now_.

He turned in the direction he thought the camp was, but after fifteen minutes, there was nothing. Just the same trees and grass.

An owl hooted, scaring Tony down to the bone. And as his heart rate was settling back to normal, he was forced to admit it.

He was lost.


End file.
